Captain Red and the Denizens of Mars
by OriginalAlcy
Summary: The year is 1936. Willow Rosenberg is an ace pilot, Captain of the Red Devil squadron and a law unto herself in the disciplined world of Air Command. However everything she knows is about to be thrown on its head - firstly by the invading Martians and secondly by something far more intimidating – a strange blonde, blue-eyed bombshell by the name of Tara Maclay (Sci-fi AU).
1. Prologue & An Ill-Advised Stunt

**A/N: **Captain Red and the Denizens of Mars is one of my earlier Willow/Tara fics but it's one I had a lot of fun with at the time. I just wanted to tell a rollicking sci-fi yarn that isn't really grounded in any sort of reality. One of the key components of the Alternate Universe that I created for this fic is technology that is decidedly more advanced than it actually was in 1936 - just because I could. Sit back and enjoy the action!

**Prologue  
A Discovery**

**_1922_**

Lying as a testament to an age long gone, the age of Pharaohs and gods of legend, the Valley of the Kings has long been one of the most famous archaeological sites in the world. From the entrance a person would have a perfect view up to the high point of the Theban hills, al Qurn. The particular angle lends an almost pyramidal to the ancient skyline and explains the ancient name _ta dehent - _the peak.

Over the centuries, the pharaohs gave way to tomb raiders. They in turn gave way to the rich Europeans who scoured the valley for treasures to adorn their homes and display in their museums. The most recent wave consisted of archaeologists. Knowledge seekers as opposed to treasure hunters, they scoured the valley seeking knowledge of a past age that captured the world's imagination like few others.

A light breeze caused sand to swirl around the members of the Oxford University archaeology team as they worked on KV 14. The inauspicious designation had been given to the tomb of the nineteenth and twentieth dynasty rules, Tausert and Setnakht. The entrance, located at the base of a sheer cliff, saw a great deal of foot traffic as students went to and fro with notepads tucked under their arms. There was a commotion arising from further up the hill where a small group had gathered, one student peeled away and started running towards the entrance of the tomb. When he pushed his way through the throng around the entrance, several people he passed made exclamations of annoyance when he shoved them aside. In his haste he just yelled a quick apology over his shoulder before disappearing into the entrance.

Kathy Rogers lifted her hand so it was just millimetres from the surface of the fragile hieroglyphs in the tomb's interior. The inscriptions were amazingly well preserved considering the passage of centuries since they had been chiselled out of the rock. However they were now incredibly fragile and crumbling away in places. Despite the fact she was deep inside a tomb, a place of death, Kathy felt more alive than she did anywhere else. This was what she lived for, discovering the remnants that an ancient civilisation had left behind and reconstructing the lives of people that had lived and died so many centuries ago. This particular dig carried a special significance for Kathy. It was her first time as dig supervisor. The Head of School had initially balked at the idea of a woman running any dig, let alone one as prestigious as KV 14. However her colleagues had wholeheartedly supported her application. She was anxious that everything run as smoothly as possible to justify their faith in her.

"Take over here, Mark." Kathy handed the small brush in her hand to a student hovering behind her. "Remember, light touches."

"Yes, Miss Rogers, of course."

_So far so good,_ Kathy mused as she wandered past a group of students sketching the hieroglyphs on the wall. Her trained eye scanned the ancient pictograms with a chill of pleasure running though her body. Even though she had seen these murals many times, even studied them for her thesis, they never failed to take her breath away every time she saw them firsthand. The decoration of the upper level consisted of images of the gates of the underworld and at the point where Kathy stood, the eighth division of the Book of Gates. She ran her eyes along the pictorial description describing the journey of the Sun god Ra through the twelve gates of the netherworld. The images of multi-headed snakes and human headed soul birds were definitely from another world altogether. Kathy translated a cartouche on the wall with ease,

_King of upper and lower Egypt, Powerful of manifestations of Ra, beloved of Amen, Chosen of Ra; Son of Ra, Set is victorious, beloved of Amen-Ra._

Kathy was continuing down the ramp to the first burial chamber when she heard fast footsteps echoing down the corridor. She spun around to see an out of breath student tearing down the ramp to come to a sliding halt just in front of her. As he regained his breath, Kathy was torn between excitement and worry. Was it good news or bad?

The young man sucked in a few deep breaths before gushing out an explanation for his haste. "We were digging a new access path…found something...odd. I don't know what it is exactly…some other kid keeps babbling something about Mars. You'd better come take a look."

Kathy followed him at a brisk pace back up the ramp and out into the bright Egyptian sunlight. She did not have to look far to see a small crowd gathered up ahead. She and her guide pushed their way through to the front of the throng. Kathy was greeted with a strange metallic object that had been uncovered from beneath the layers of sand. She frowned at the strange sight for a few moments before she knelt down and touched the smooth metal. It was not blemished in anyway. Instead it was as new and shiny as the hood on any carefully polished automobile. There was no way to tell exactly how large it was at this point in time but, judging by the surface area uncovered so far, it was of a considerable size. Rising to her feet, Kathy looked down on the object her students had uncovered. She cocked her head to one side as she always did when she was thinking hard. So far it looked like a very large, strangely shaped wing. Her first thought was that it was some sort of aircraft.

"That has absolutely nothing to do with ancient Egyptians," Kathy said, although that much was glaringly obvious to even the most untrained eye among them.

"It comes from Mars," someone announced behind her with certainty in his voice.

"Don't be ridiculous!" another team member snapped impatiently.

"Shut up everyone and get back to your work," Kathy was annoyed that this little interruption had managed to bring the dig to a halt. "I'll send a telegram back to Oxford, there are people who will want to know about this…whatever it is."

"It's from Mars," the student repeated.

* * *

_**Chapter One  
An Ill-advised Stunt**_

_**Sussex, England, 1936**_

Willow Rosenberg tugged irritably at the collar that was threatening to cut of the flow of blood to her head. Just once she wished for something a little more comfortable to wear instead of a uniform that had obviously been designed to cause the maximum amount of discomfort to the wearer.

Not usually given to excesses of vanity, Willow was currently staring intently into the decorative mirror opposite her. She regarded herself with a critical eye. Her red hair was bound into a neat bun that sat at the nape of her neck and framed her pale frame. Most of her face was dominated by her expressive, bright green eyes. 'Cats eyes' her mother had always called them – usually with a smile on her face for her mischievous daughter. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of Willow's nose and rosebud pink lips completed what seemed a very pleasant face. It was all a little too girlish for Willow's liking. She had the distinct impression from several people in her life that at the age of twenty-three one should at least appear distinguished and grown-up. Willow knew she was neither.

The uniform, however uncomfortable it was, did provide her with a degree of respectability and authority. Willow wore the dress uniform of Air Command - dark blue dress trousers that were obviously not designed with the female form in mind and a double-breasted jacket of the same colour. The aforementioned collar buttoned up just under her chin. The blue was complemented with gold - a thick stripe running down either leg, trim on the jacket and the two pips on her epaulets proclaiming a Captain. Willow puffed out her chest slightly and lifted her chin. She had recently been promoted, one of the youngest captains in Air Command. She still enjoyed looking in the mirror and seeing it for herself just to reassure herself that it was not a dream.

_Don't get too attached to those pips Rosenberg, they might be coming off darn soon. Then you're going to be setting the Air Command record for the shortest stint spent as a Captain._

Her shoulders sagged and her nose wrinkled in annoyance at the persistence of her ego. At this point in time she knew she really ought to be more concerned about her hair not sitting just right or the creases in her uniform being not quite crisp enough. She tugged the jacket downwards as if it were not sitting perfectly enough already. The stiff fabric hugged her curves in all the wrong places. Her attention to her appearance in this particular instance was for a good cause – she was in smack in the middle of the proverbial frying pan.

When Willow finally realised that nothing more could be done to approve her appearance she forced herself to keep her hands clasped tightly behind her back where they could do no more un-needed smoothing or straightening. A small sigh escaped her lips as she stood and stared at her reflection. What did it really matter what she looked like? Nothing short of a miracle was going to help her now.

The door behind her opened and Willow spun around to come face to face with a very stern looking man. He swung the door open a little wider to reveal a very spartan office beyond. His uniform was much the same as her own only there was an over abundance of gold braid around the cuff of his sleeve and he had four pips to match her two.

"Rosenberg, come in."

Willow marched rather than walked into his office and stood with a very erect posture in front of the desk. There was a small plaque sitting in front of her with writing in gilt letters: _Air Vice Marshal Sir Reginald Bryant._

The man himself took a seat behind his nameplate with a clearly irritated sigh. He did not offer Willow a seat and nor did she expect to be offered one. For a few moments he appeared to be pretending that she wasn't even there. He shuffled the papers on his desk and took the time to peruse a few at his leisure.

Willow was fighting a silent struggle - trying to ignore the urge to tug at her collar again. Bryant's office seemed stiflingly hot even though she could look at the window to see rain splashing against the panes. Sheer force of will kept her hands clasped behind her back, her chin up defiantly.

After taking his time, Bryant finally did look back up at her. His lined face hinted that he was quite capable of breaking into a smile when the occasion called for it. However the expression he wore at that point in time made Willow want to scurry for cover. He regarded her through piercing eyes which seemed as though they were boring right into her thoughts.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself regarding yesterday's incident?" he asked her in a bored sounding monotone.

"No, sir...except that I'm very sorry, sir. I know it was foolish," Willow replied in clipped tones

"Foolish?" his monotone gave way to a hint of anger, his eyes glaring and yet Willow surprised herself by meeting them evenly. "Your stunt was dangerous and totally ill-advised. Whatever made you think you could do a victory roll that close to the surface of my airfield?"

Willow had to fight the urge to make an impertinent remark in reply. Of course she could do a victory roll meters from the ground without batting an eyelid, blindfolded even. She was one of the best pilots in Air Command. Bryant knew that much, he had told her himself on several occasions. Willow knew full well it wasn't the answer he was looking for.

"I'm not sure, sir. I think making Captain went to my head and I was thinking with my ego…instead of the rules."

"You never play by the rules, Rosenberg. That is one of the reasons why I had very little hesitation in promoting you to Captain of the Devils after Captain Robson was killed." Bryant paused for a few moments and Willow shifted her feet uncomfortably as Bryant briefly entered 'don't go there' territory before continuing. "There are some people who are naturally inclined to live outside the rules. In most cases those people are just a thorn in society's arse and have no place in the military. However, there are a few who do, god help us, find themselves a place. You know what those people become Rosenberg?"

"No, sir," Willow replied, uncertain as to where this conversation was going.

"Heroes, well, mostly dead heroes to be precise…but heroes all the same."

_Fucking fantastic, it's always nice to hear you're on a one way track to deadness,_ Willow thought wryly. _Although given that there isn't actually a war on, nor likely to be one I might be safe enough. _

Bryant pressed his hands together in front of him and pointed them at Willow. "You're exceedingly brilliant, an excellent pilot and a born leader…but after yesterday I'm beginning to wonder if I made a bad call. There are some lines you cannot cross, no matter how indispensable you think you are. At any other time yelling at you for a minute or so would have served adequate punishment but you would have to pick the day the American delegation just happened to be visiting and the precise moment they were touring the base. Why on earth did you have to do it right above their heads? You jeopardised the whole joint alliance when you nearly killed one of their most distinguished Air Marshals!"

"He was impressed!" Willow replied quickly and immediately bit her lip to silence herself.

"Your wingtip took his hat off. An inch lower and it would have been his head!" Bryant snapped, he certainly wasn't impressed.

"Well, he was too bloody tall," Willow muttered under her breath.

"Did you say something, Rosenberg?"

"Ah, no sir…well, actually, I'm very sorry for ruining our good relations with the American branch of Air Command but I think it was ruined before I had a crack at it. I mean, refusing to reequip our entire fighter division with the latest American plane was a wise decision if you ask me but I don't think it made them very happy."

"No one is asking you, Rosenberg! I know it is a very difficult task to ask of you but it would be very much to your advantage if you would just keep your mouth shut! Right now you are facing some very serious charges."

"I know sir," Willow replied a little glumly.

"You came this close, Rosenberg," he held up his hand with his forefinger and thumb almost pressed together. "This close to being demoted to private and spending the rest of your days in the service filling sandbags without a hope of ever even thinking about flying again."

Willow gulped, her mouth suddenly going very dry. The thought of not ever flying again…well, they might as well put her in front of a firing squad and get it over with now. She waited for Bryant to pass his sentence on her, knowing that it could be any one of a number of very unpleasant assignments. A transfer to an American Air Command squadron - well, that in itself wasn't so bad, her mother would take her being in another country a lot harder than she would. Perhaps one of the squadrons in Pasadena or Sunnydale.

Willow paled slightly. _No, please not Sunnydale. Bryant wouldn't dare._

Or even a flight instructor at Air Academy teaching teenagers how not to fly nose first into the ground? That didn't sound too bad. Then Willow remembered the dismissive attitude she had shown to her instructors during her time at the Academy. She felt a small twinge of guilt when she remembered her arrogance towards the people who were teaching her to fly. Even at the age of seventeen, she had known that she was a better pilot than any of them. Modesty was a word Willow had never bothered to learn the meaning of. Just the thought of having to take the kind of attitude that she herself had given was enough to make Willow cringe.

"Carrier duty," Bryant interrupted her musing with two simple words.

"What?" Willow had been so caught up in thinking of the horrors involved in teaching teenagers how to fly she had missed Bryant's words.

"I'm dispatching you and the entire Red Devil squadron to the carrier HMS Odysseus. She's currently with the fifth fleet somewhere in the Atlantic. Until I decide otherwise, you will fly fighter escort for the fleet-"

"You're sending me to the middle of the ocean!" Willow burst out before she could stop herself.

Carrier duty was one of the least sought after assignments in all of Air Command. Flying from an aircraft carrier was one of the most dangerous tasks a pilot could engage in. However that wasn't the only reason for its unpopularity, the Fleet spent long periods of time at sea – no bars, no entertainment, nothing but a hell of a lot of water. It was well known that life aboard the carrier was lonely, cramped, and damp. Willow hated boats of all sizes, even great big ones.

"Would you rather I assigned you to Air Academy?" Bryant asked coolly.

For a few moments, Willow actually considered this counter-offer. it was almost attractive in comparison to life on a Carrier. Then again, the Red Devils could easily be equipped for Carrier duty, which meant she would still get to fly her Draken. Although the thought of flying her plane out over a vast expanse of ocean with nothing to look at besides water did not really appeal. Willow hated swimming as well.

"No, sir," she managed to reply quietly.

"Right, I've already organised the Devils to undergo the necessary modifications."

"You knew I'd say yes?" Willow asked in surprise.

"Rosenberg, you've been under my command for the past six years. I've seen you develop from being a headstrong, cocky young fledgling to a…well, to a headstrong, cocky Captain. After the serious nature of your transgression, this was all I could do to keep you flying with the Devils…where you belong."

"I understand, sir. Thank you, sir."

"The best of luck to you, Rosenberg. You fly out for the Odysseus next week."

Willow started to open her mouth as though she was going to say something but Bryant silenced her with a wave of his hand,

"Don't even ask, Rosenberg. There will be no leave for you or any members of your squadron. You're going to need the whole week for training and the Devils have to be reconfigured for carrier-based operation," Bryant turned his attention back to the papers in front of him.

"But-"

"No buts. You're dismissed, Captain Rosenberg," He glanced back up and at her to see she wasn't moving and raised his eyebrows. "Dismissed!"

Her eyes widened for a few moments at his uncharacteristic refusal of any leave at all - even twenty-four hours would have sufficed. There would be no time to drive up to London to see her parents. A quick phone call would probably have to suffice. Willow could hear her mother crying into the receiver even now.

She saluted Bryant and he nodded absently. As she left Bryant's office she thought that she really ought to have listened to her parents when they told her to take swimming lessons.

* * *

"You didn't tell her anything did you, Bryant?" the voice on the other end of the phone was urgent, insistent.

Reg Bryant cupped his hand over the receiver for a few moments as he let out a frustrated sigh. He watched as the rain ran in rivulets down his office window, the gloomy weather mirroring his own mood.

"No, nothing…they're flying out next week," Bryant replied blandly into the phone.

"Next week...couldn't we make it any sooner?" the voice barked back.

"Not unless you want them to smash into the deck of the carrier on their first landing attempts," Bryant knew full well the Devils didn't have enough time as it was.

"Fine," the voice snapped impatiently. "I'll sleep more soundly when I know all the carrier-based squadrons are almost at full strength."

"Ah, Prime Minister…do we have an ETA?" Bryant ventured quietly.

"No Bryant we don't but when it happens we'd better hope like heck what we've done is enough because I have a feeling that all of hell itself is going to be unleashed."


	2. Devils that Float

**Chapter Two  
Floating Devils**

It was the day that the Red Devils were scheduled to rendezvous with the Odysseus, the day that signalled the start of a new life for Willow Rosenberg and it started badly before she even woke.

Willow had the kind of dream where one thinks that they have woken up quite normally. For Willow, this sense of normalcy barely lasted a minute. She opened her eyes to stare at the familiar bare ceiling of her quarters while she shrugged off the last vestiges of sleep. When she glanced at her clock, she saw it wasn't quite six am – a few minutes before her alarm was due to sound. That was normal enough as Willow always woke before her alarm. It did not stop her from setting it all the same...just in case. Willow was a 'just in case' kind of girl. However, when she went to roll out of bed something prevented her from doing so. Willow frowned and tried again. However when she tried harder there was a small groan behind her. Her eyes shot open when she realised there was a body warm body pressed against her from behind. The arm that was tucked snugly around her waist was what was preventing her from rolling out of bed.

_Okay…so how good a night did I have last night to make me forget falling into my rack with someone? Wait, where's my hangover…hang on…I did not even drink last night!_

Gingerly, Willow lifted the arm enough so that she could crawl out from beneath it. She felt a strange sense of reluctance when she did…it was odd. Willow swung her feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. It was then that she realised she didn't have a stitch of clothing on, the cool morning air raised goose bumps on her skin. Willow shivered and reached to the floor for a discarded shirt.

"Is it that time already, darling?"

A soft, sensual and very female voice spoke. Willow's eyes flew open at the sound of the unmistakably female voice.

_Okay…go me?_

Willow was torn. On one hand she was congratulating herself for having managed to pick up a girl whilst still sober, on the other hand she was struggling to remember what had actually happened between them. She started to grin but then shook her head quickly to get rid of it.

_It can't have been that good, otherwise you'd at least remember her name or what she looks like? Is she even naked? _Willow shifted back ever so slightly and felt the reassuring presence of naked breasts pressed against her back. _Naked, check._

Willow was trying to come up with some incredibly witty comment to distract the woman in her bed. It was imperative that she did not let the fact that she couldn't remember her name preclude a repeat performance of whatever it was they had done to end up naked. Willow was just about to roll over and confirm whether she was as gorgeous as her voice suggested when there was an almighty sound outside her window. It was colossal and abrupt, the sort of sound the very earth would make if it were to be torn asunder. Suddenly the room was bathed in a fiery orange glow, and seconds later the windows were blown inwards. Shards of glass filled the air. Willow was picked up by the force and tossed over the other side of the bed. She landed hard in a tangled pile of limbs and cracked her head against the side of her dresser.

She was dazed by the blow, her vision growing dark for several moments. When it cleared, she found the air scorching hot and filled with smoke. It filled her lungs and she began choking violently. Piercing yells and screams rent the air outside.

Willow struggled to pull herself back together. She felt the sickly taste of blood in her mouth as well as the sting of dozens of cuts all over her body from the flying glass. Everything hurt and yet she knew that she only cared about one thing - that the mysterious girl in her bed was safe.

_How can I care about someone whose name I don't even know?_

She crawled back to the bed, using it as a lever to pull herself up. The sheets were stained red by the hot, sticky blood that covered them. Willow had the image of a pale body lying torn and broken on the bed and she felt herself begin to retch.

"No!" _Her name! I do know her name…it's-_

Willow sat bolt upright in bed, a scream still on her lips. Her chest heaved as though she had been running a very long distance. She even had the sweat beading on her brow to match. Her hand patted the spot beside her on her narrow bed and she was strangely disappointed when she felt nothing - or to be more precise, no one. The bed was empty save for herself. She was still clad in her ordinary blue and white striped pyjamas and she clearly remembered going to bed the night before with only a book to keep her company.

There had been a name on her lips before she woke and yet now, try as she might, the name eluded her completely. The name had belonged to the girl lying beside her. Even though the girl had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination, she wished she could remember her name.

"You really need to get out more Rosenberg…and get yourself some more tail," Willow whispered to herself as she climbed out of bed.

She padded across the floor to her mirror. Willow stared at herself. There were dark circles under her eyes from the long hours spent training to get them up to scratch before they flew out for the Odysseus. Her red hair fell limply down to her shoulders as she raked out the tangles with her fingers. To top it all off the world's biggest pimple had taken up residence on her chin.

_Self-pity, Rosenberg…that's not like you. Since when have you ever cared what you looked like - well, except when you're about to be torn to shreds by your commanding officer…for doing nothing more than the most brilliant manoeuvre in the world._ Willow wrinkled her nose, some people just didn't have a sense of humour. _And now I'm getting sent to a bloody aircraft carrier to be surrounded by over a thousand men, I'm going to be celibate for the rest of my life!_

With an irritated huff Willow grabbed her toilet kit to head off for a cold shower.

* * *

As Willow sat in her quarters and pulled on her flying leathers, she turned her mind to more important matters than odd dreams. She remembered the shocked looks on the faces of the rest of the Red Devils when she had informed them of their new assignment. She fully expected them to respond with anger and indignation at having to share in her punishment. Instead, the five pilots had just looked at each other and shrugged.

"Carrier duty, now there's something you don't get to do every day," Alex had said with almost real excitement in his voice.

Willow smiled when she remembered her best friend's response. Flight Officer Alexander Harris was her second in command and could always be relied upon to make her feel better whatever the circumstances.

Willow pulled on tight brown leather pants over her stockings. Every piece of her flying gear was designed for warmth. It was freezing at twenty thousand feet. So cold that ice had had tendency to form on a pilots oxygen mask if they weren't careful. A heavy white woollen jumper went over her chemise, the roll neck sitting snugly under her chin. Wool lined boots went on her feet over two pairs of thick socks. Lastly she pulled on her jacket, a wool lined leather one with a high collar. Grabbing her flying helmet and goggles, she took one last look around the room. Most of her stuff had already been cleared out and was enroute to the middle of the ocean. Willow only spared the room a few moments. It had never been anything special, just a place for her to sleep when she wasn't flying.

Willow walked the few hundred meters to the officer's mess wearing her flying gloves to ward of the chilly cold that hung in the air like an unwelcome blanket. The bright sun, although a pleasant contrast to the rain of the previous day, held no warmth whatsoever.

She had the cooks fill her breakfast tray to the brim with mash, overcooked sausages and the horrible powdery scrambled eggs that she loved to hate. It wasn't hard to spot the five other pilots of the Red Devil squadron eating their breakfast. Usually the loudest and most boisterous bunch in any room, they now sat in a sullen silence punctuated only by the occasional burp. When they saw Willow approaching, they cleared a space for her tray on the table and waited patiently for her to explain what the heck was going on. Alex smiled quickly as she sat next to him, giving her a jab with his shoulder as if to say 'cheer up old chap,' as he was prone to do.

Willow looked at each of her pilots in turn and wished they would let her apologise for being the reason they were about to experience was it was like to never have a dry pair of socks. Barret Askew sat with his empty tray in front of him, it never took him long to eat a meal. His arms were folded over his barrel like chest, the reason that everyone called him 'Barrel' rather than Barret. His physique and craggy visage made him look more like a boxing champ than a pilot, although he handled his plane like a dancer. Sitting just beside him was Charlie Young, he was an Australian but despite that he was a likeable chap. Willow just wished that he would stop calling her a 'sheila' all the time – whatever the hell that meant. Then there was Spike Williamson, no one actually knew his real name, he had just always been Spike and no one even knew where he had picked up the nickname.

"Why are we all being assigned to carrier duty? I mean, not that I don't want the squadron to stay together but…" Dennis Emers asked, the last and newest member of the group. He was just a kid really, barely a year out of Air Academy. Dennis had been assigned to the squadron just a few weeks prior, following the accident which had killed their previous Captain. He wrote to his mother every week and ironed his underwear. He was a good pilot though - as were all the Devils.

"Hey, pimple face, shut up," Barrel jabbed the young man in the chest with a finger. "Where the Captain goes, we go."

"Barrel," Willow said his name with a cautionary note to her voice before addressing Dennis's question. "I don't know, I can't answer any of your questions because I don't know anything myself. We make for rendezvous with the Odysseus and I guess we'll spend our time doing whatever it is that carrier based squadrons do."

"Learning to swim," Alex remarked with a grin in Willow's direction.

"And covering our arse cracks in the showers," Charlie added with a snicker. "Especially pretty boys like Spike here."

Spike grabbed Charlie around the neck in a choke hold, making him knock his still full tray to the ground with a clatter while food went in all directions. As though on cue, the entire mess began a raucous chorus of catcalls and whistles in their direction. Spike and Charlie bowed to their appreciate audience before returning to their seats in a more sedate manner. Willow looked down at her own food tray and suddenly realised she couldn't eat a bite. She pushed the eggs back and forth for a while with her fork, succeeding in putting herself off eating completely while staring at the runny goop that laughingly passed itself off as eggs.

"You gonna eat that, Cap?" Charlie asked seeing as the floor was wearing his breakfast.

Willow slid the tray over to him, grateful to have it out from under her nose. She turned her attention away from the conversations that surrounded her and looked out the window at the bright winter sunshine. It was a perfect day for flying, the clouds were few and high, and mostly there was just an expanse of beautiful blue sky.

* * *

Willow rode in the front seat of the jeep, her feet up on the dashboard as a pimply faced private drove the Devil Squadron to their planes. The boys riding in the back had struck up a badly out of tune version of their favourite drinking song. No one realised that it actually only sounded good when everyone was drunk. Now it just made Willow cringe…and smile at the same time. It was good to joke around before a three hour plane flight, three hours of freezing her arse off as they flew over the Atlantic, and three hours with nothing to do but listen to the boys swap stories of their latest conquests over the radio. They were always the same stories told over and over again - just a little more embellished than the last time they had been told. Willow and Dennis were the odd ones out. Dennis was too young to have stories and Willow's stories were off limits.

The jeep ground to a halt and there was the sound of five pairs of boots leaping down to the ground from behind her.

"Happy flying, sir," the pimply faced private said as she climbed out of her seat.

Willow nodded her thanks and turned her attention towards the six planes sitting in one neat line up in front of her. The Supermarine Draken. Willow remembered seeing the plane for the first time - a sight that had closely rivalled her first trip to see the dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum as being the most spectacular sight in her life. The Draken had once been the fastest plane in Air Command. It had been replaced by the latest American model but Willow wouldn't reequip the squadron for all the speed and firepower the American plane could offer.

The Draken sat like a squat, silent predator in the bright red colour scheme that gave the Red Devils their name. As far as planes went, even single seater fighters, it was fairly small. However that worked to its advantage in the air. Fast, agile, it could turn on a dime and was a joy to fly. The nose was dominated by a huge Bristol Mercury radial engine, a three bladed propeller and black painted exhausts. Willow ran her hand along the leading edge of the solid wing until she reached the barrel of the one of the four 20mm cannons that could punch a hole through pretty much anything.

"It's still you and me, little Devil," Willow patted the metal wing twice before leaping up onto the wing.

She checked the ground crew had stowed her parachute in the bucket seat and, more importantly to Willow, the small inflatable dinghy which clipped on to the parachute harness.

"Ready to go swimming?" Alex called out with a grin as he slipped himself into the cockpit of his plane.

Willow made a rude gesture in reply but she had a playful smile on her face. Like she had done so many times in her flying career, Willow climbed into her own cockpit and slipped down into the seat. No matter how many times she did this, she always felt as though she were coming home every time. One of the ground crew helped her with her harness before jumping down from the wing. She pulled her leather flying helmet on over her hair and waved a signal to the other Devils.

Priming the ignition switch, the engine spluttered a few times before roaring into life. Willow looked out to her left and saw the other five, identical planes starting up in turn. The plane lurched forward, slowly starting to move before gathering speed as it moved out onto the grass runway.

Like birds of prey, the Devils taxied down the grass runway. One by one, they gathered speed. Willow was in her element as she felt the plane loose contact with the ground and she was away. Moments later her undercarriage was up and the Draken was gaining height steadily. Willow circled over Shoreham and waggled her wings as she flew past the control tower where she knew Bryant would be watching.

"Fuck you, Bryant," she thought to herself as the base gradually disappeared behind her. She flicked the radio switch and pulled on her mask so she could talk to the other Devils. "Devil leader to Devil Squadron, radio check everyone."

"Devil two here, say Will, did you remember your snorkel?" Alex chuckled over the comm.

"Devil three," Barrel's deep voice rumbled. "I don't know about you guys but I have some sexy swimming trunks."

"Attack of the great white whale!" Charlie laughed and Willow had to agree with him, the mental picture of Barrel in swimming trunks was not a pleasant one. "Devil four here."

"This is Devil five saying that there had better be some fine looking dames on this boat or I'm going to turn around and fly all the way back," Spike purred in the voice that had won over many a young 'dame'.

"Devil six checking in, sir," Dennis' small voice piped up. "A-are there really girls on the carrier?"

"Yes, but they all have 'real men only' written on their foreheads so no luck for you, baby chicken," Spike replied.

"There is to be no fraternising between sexes on the carrier," Willow interrupted tersely. "So none of you are going to be seeing any action of any kind." _And that includes me._

"Hey, someone's a sour puss this morning," Charlie joined in. "Do you want me to give you some tips on picking up girls, Cap?"

"I think I can manage on my own," Willow replied, glancing down at the coast below them to check that they were crossing in the right place. She awkwardly marked their position with a pencil on the folded up map in her lap. "Besides, our tastes in girls, Charlie, are waaaaay different."

"Hey, Dennis," Alex began excitedly. "Did you ever hear about the time the Captain socked this American chap with the best roundhouse I've ever seen just because he said she handled her stick well?"

_This is going to be a long flight,_ Willow thought with gritted teeth as she glanced out below her and saw the sun-tinted Bristol Channel passing by beneath them.

* * *

When Willow couldn't feel her arse any longer she was well and truly ready to be on her feet again, even if it was the floating deck of an aircraft carrier. They had sighted the fleet three hours and twenty minutes out from Shoreham just when Willow thought her navigation skills had somehow disappeared over night along with her desire to eat. There, near the centre of the fleet, was their home the carrier HMS Odysseus. As the Devils began circling waiting for Willow to land first, Willow had a momentary panic that she had suddenly forgotten how to do a deck landing. It was as though the dozens of dummy deck landings they had been doing all week in preparation had never happened.

She lined up the Odysseus in her sights and the 740 foot deck suddenly appeared to be the size of a cricket pitch.

_I hate swimming!_ Willow thought for the tenth time in the last few minutes, although realistically if she went off the side of the deck she wouldn't be doing any swimming.

Willow went through a mental checklist just to check she had everything under control. Down undercarriage. _Yes, wheels are good._ Down arrestor hook to catch one of the eight wires strung across the deck. She pulled back the cockpit canopy, locking it open. Biting cold air suddenly hit the few patches of her face that were uncovered. Willow increased pitch, and lowered her flaps as she moved abeam of the stern of the ship. A few hundred yards out now. She could only just make out the batsman with his brightly coloured bats out horizontally signalling that everything was fine. Willow chopped back the throttle and held the stick steady as a rock. Suddenly her wheels hit the deck. There was a gut-wrenching tug as the arrestor hook did its job, catching on a wire. Her body lunged forward, straining against the harness with the sudden deceleration.

Willow blinked and realised she had done it, a perfect carrier landing.

_Like I was ever worried!_ Willow thought with a grin.

She taxied forward over the lowered crash barriers, continuing to follow the signals of the deck crew. Once in position, she cut off power to the engine and the Draken came to a complete stop. Willow pulled her flying helmet back off her sweaty brow and laid her head on the Draken's instrument panel with an almighty sigh.

"Sir, are you alright?"

She was startled when someone spoke to her. Groggily Willow looked up to see one of the crew men standing on the wing, looking in on her.

With her body freed from the harness, Willow clambered out of the cockpit so the crew could unlock the Draken's wings from their extended position and fold them for storage in the hanger beneath the flight deck.

Willow stood on the wooden flight deck and watched as Alex also landed perfectly.

_Well_, she thought glancing around at the bustling flight deck. _Home sweet home._

"Captain Rosenberg…your presence is requested on the bridge."

Willow raised her eyebrows and wondered at the abrupt summons. She had barely had time to cause trouble of any sort. Well, save holding up the landing pattern while she went sightseeing on the flight deck. After watching her Draken disappear beneath the flight deck completely, she turned to follow the ensign.

She was led to the main bridge of the carrier, the brain of the massive ship. It was a hive of activity and Willow had to dodge through several busy sailors clearly each with an important task of his own. Willow was busy staring at the instruments cluttering the walls, most of which she had no idea what they were for, when a voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"Ah, Captain Rosenberg?"

Willow spun around to come face to face with a rather imposing figure standing in the centre of the bridge. Perhaps in his early forties, his hair was greying at the temples beneath his peaked cap. His dark brown eyes regarded her calmly from a weathered face. He reminded Willow of her fourth form teacher, a man she had liked very much. He was dressed in an impeccably crisp white naval uniform, his hands clasped behind him in the classic pose of a stoic leader of men. She couldn't help but look down at her own worn flying leathers. She felt somewhat underdressed for the bridge of the carrier.

"Welcome to the Odysseus, Captain. I'm Commander Benjamin Boone," He nodded once. "Seeing that we're going to be such great friends, you can call me Commander Boone."

Willow inclined her head in return and realised with disappointment that he was nothing like her old teacher. "Thank you sir, it's good to be here," it was all Willow could think to say.

"No it's not," Boone replied curtly. "Having someone with your sort of reputation on my ship wasn't exactly high up on my Christmas shopping list. However we all have to make the best of a bad situation now don't we?"

"Er, yes sir," Willow replied, not quite knowing whether his question was rhetorical or not.

"Rosenberg, I'd like you to see something," he announced it in a voice similar to that of a child showing off a new toy knowing full well that it was better than any toy anyone else possessed. "Keep your eyes on the HMS Ajax - the cruiser at the centre of the fleet."

Boone raised his arm and pointed out a massive ship sailing off to their starboard side. It was unusual that he had said the cruiser was at the centre. Normally the carriers sailed at the centre where they were well protected. There were two in the Fifth Fleet - the Achilles and the Odysseus. Willow watched the cruiser closely, not quite sure what to expect.

Suddenly there was a flash of light from the Ajax's amidships. It was then that Willow noticed a tall mast which was unlike any other ships design she had ever seen. Gradually, as she stared harder, she saw faint traces of pink light swirling around that mast. They started small at first, rising up from the base and fading away to nothing in the air above the ship. Willow then had the distinct impression that they were growing in intensity, both becoming brighter and lingering in the air for longer periods of time. Finally, there was a single beam of pink tinted light rising up from the mast in a continuous stream. Somewhere, high above the fleet the beam of light stopped moving upwards. With a twisting movement, it split off into many, many different strands. Each strand then shot outwards. It reached the edge of the fleet before falling down to the sea. The strands had joined horizontally as well, becoming a giant net that had the whole fleet ensnared within its grasp.

Her mouth agape, Willow walked to the window of the bridge. Her nose pressed against the glass as she looked up at the pink light shimmering in the air all around them. It was quite unlike anything she had ever seen before. _Obviously._

"Never seen anything like that have you?" Boone had snuck up behind her, giving her a fright so that she banged her nose on the glass.

Willow rubbed her nose with tears of pain stinging her eyes. She shook her head, feeling all of her dignity leaving with her sense of balance.

"It's called a Net."

Willow snickered involuntarily, "Couldn't think of something more unique to call it?"

Boone clamped a hand on her shoulder and Willow jumped again. "Bit jumpy aren't we, Rosenberg? You're going to think that bit of pink fluff is pretty unique when it saves our arses."

"How's it going to do that…sir?" Willow tried discreetly to shrug out of his grip but his fingers tightened to the point where they were digging into her skin.

"Number one, it keeps us from being seen. A plane could fly right over the Fleet and see nothing except water. Number two…and this is where it really gets good, you can throw anything at it and nothing will get through. I had the privilege of being inside it during a full naval bombardment, nothing like seeing eighteenth inch guns unable to make a dent in a bit of pink fluff. Can't say where they picked up the technology from," he said answering her unspoken question. "I'm just a sailor."

He finally removed his hand from her shoulder, leaving Willow to stand staring out the window and up into the sky. She could still see shafts of light rising at regular intervals from the Ajax. The big cruiser looked like a Christmas tree. Something about it was puzzling her. Willow frowned and turned to Boone who was standing at the helm.

"Why do we need it?" she asked curiously.

"You ask a lot of questions don't you, Rosenberg. I'd quit it if I were you. We're all just following orders. You should know that's the way it works in the military."

The seas were beginning to churn as the weather worsened. Even on the huge carrier, Willow could still feel its rocking motion as it dipped down into the waves and rose again on the other side. Willow knew instantly why she had never wanted to be a sailor. She watched as rain began to splash against the windows, the water running in sheets down the glass. A shiver coursed through her and although she wasn't sure if it was the cold or the mysterious pink glow surrounding them, she pulled her jacket more firmly around her.

"As snug as a bug in a rug," Boone said, lighting his pipe.


	3. An Unfortunate Bunk Shortage

**Chapter Three  
An Unfortunate Bunk Shortage**

The day dawned bright and golden, the morning found Captain Willow Rosenberg leaning against the railing on one of the uncovered observation decks on the Odysseus' bridge. The bridge was located on the starboard side of the flight deck, amidships, in what was known as the 'island.' It was effectively a tall tower which served as both the place from which the ship itself was controlled and as the aircraft control tower. From where she was standing, a few stories off the flight deck, Willow had a clear view of much of the fleet. She could just see the low silhouette of the Achilles, their sister carrier, just beyond the Ajax. When she looked beyond the ships, there was nothing but white-capped blue water in every direction.

Willow was beginning to realise that green was her favourite colour. She missed it already, even after just a few days on the carrier. She gripped the railing that surrounded the deck. The sun fell on the exposed skin of her hands but she felt no warmth. Eventually she had to let go because she feared her skin would adhere to the ice cold metal.

"You'll get used to it."

Willow looked to see another officer joining her, a steaming cup of coffee in his extended hand. Tad Dempster, one of the Executive Officers on board the carrier, offered her the coffee with a smile on his still youthful but bearded face. Besides learning that her body was allergic to the cold and sea air, Willow had also learnt that all the sailors on the Odysseus were not self-absorbed pricks like Boone. Tad had gone out of his way to make sure that the Devils, Willow in particular, found themselves a home on the carrier. Willow still viewed her floating tin home as decidedly unpleasant, but she could see how one day it might be bearable.

"Thanks, Dempster." Willow accepted the cup of dark liquid gratefully - more for the warmth it offered than the actual bitter drink itself.

Her fingers tingled painfully as they often did when being introduced to warmth after being half-frozen. The wind had also decided to join the party and it was now whipping across the flight deck and swirling up around where Willow and Tad stood high above. It whipped Willow's unbound hair across her face and she eventually drew the heavy hood of her jacket up over her head. The feeling returned to her ears in time but she was fairly certain that her nose was lost to the cold.

Tad watched the young woman at his side draw the wool-lined hood up over her long red hair. He could still see her face peeking out from beneath the cowl, pale skin with child-like freckles and lips, still blue from the cold. The hood cast a shadow over her face that he thought suited her. He couldn't quite fathom this rather odd young woman. On first impressions, Willow appeared to be the type of girl who was quiet, shy, and decidedly bookish. However, these assumptions had been since proved very wrong. There was nothing shy or retiring about this little hellcat who stood beside him. He should have seen it straight away but now he could hardly miss the fire in her green eyes. It was a passion for both flying and life in general that burned almost unchecked.

Tad grinned when he remembered the unbroken chain of victory rolls Willow had done over the carrier the day before. Thankfully Boone had been in the can and had missed the display completely. Willow probably would have found herself flying nothing but the flagpole had he seen her stunt. She just didn't care. Tad often wished he could be a little more like that, like her.

She took a small sip of the coffee, pursing her lips slightly at the bitter taste. Her nose wrinkled in a cute manner and Tad found himself wanting to tell her so. Although fraternisation between the sexes was technically against the rules, it was a rule broken often. The commanding officers could do little other than ensure that it did not interfere with the running of the ship. Tad took a quick gulp of his own coffee, wishing it were something stronger. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't," Willow said quietly, not even looking at him.

Tad closed his mouth and looked around in case she was speaking to someone else. However they were the only two on the deck.

"Huh?" he had never been a stunning wordsmith.

Willow took another sip of coffee and repeated herself. "Don't…just don't, Dempster."

"Okay," Tad replied, feeling his face burn despite the cold, not even really sure what he was okaying.

They were standing in what Tad thought was an uncomfortable silence when Boone joined them on the deck.

"Morning, Commander," Tad said nodding his head.

Willow didn't even bother to turn around. She was still staring out to sea from beneath her hood. Boone joined them both at the rail and Tad felt the tension in the air increase. It was obvious that the Commander and the Captain would never be the best of friends…or even remotely friendly acquaintances.

"Coffee, Dempster," Boone said quietly.

Tad looked down at his cup. "Yes it is sir."

Boone looked at him out of the corner of his eye as though he was the stupidest man on the planet. It did not take Tad long to realise that he was.

"Oh, yessir!" He quickly turned for the door.

"Two sugars!" Boone called at his departing back.

Willow stiffened at the thought of having to stand on the deck alone with Boone. She also wondered why it was that she was even standing out in the cold when she could be tucked up in the officer's mess out of the wind. That answer was obvious. Willow hated being below decks due to the combination of the groans that the superstructure of the ship made, the low ceilings and the smell of damp socks. At least out here she could see the sky.

"How's life onboard treating you so far, Rosenberg?" Boone asked.

Willow suspected the courtesy wasn't out of any desire to be polite. "Just fine, sir." Willow wasn't about to tell him about the damp socks.

Boone nodded as though that was all he expected her to say. "We just received word over the comm. system that the flight from the US mainland is almost here. They should be coming through the Net in a few minutes."

_The Net_. If Willow squinted and looked up at the sky she could see the faint, pinkish web that looked as though a giant fisherman had caught them in his fishing net - hence the name. No one would tell her where the technology had originated, all she knew was that it kept them safe and invisible to hostile forces. She still wasn't sure if that was a good thing. As far as she knew, there were no hostile forces to be kept safe and invisible from.

Willow looked away to the east, her eyes scanning the horizon. At first there was nothing except an increasingly grey sky. The colour nicely reflected her mood. Any moment now though, she would be able to see tiny dots approaching. They would gradually grow larger to reveal two squadrons, a dozen fresh planes and pilots who had flown off the deck of a carrier in the American-based Second Fleet. She hugged herself tightly against the chill and stood silent and brooding as they waited.

Finally Willow saw the specs on the horizon. They were just dots at first. Then the steady drone of engines drifted over the wind. Willow watched them grow bigger until she could see unmistakably gull-shaped wings and a high tailplane at the rear.

"Gullstrikes," Willow whispered to herself.

"Grumman Gullstrike Zeros, the latest and greatest in carrier-borne air power," Boone nodded. "Kinda puts your little red bugs to shame doesn't it?"

Willow ignored the barb and instead watched the lead plane circle to land. As it came closer she saw the navy blue colour scheme, a broad white stripe running down the fuselage, and yellow prop spinner. Willow heard her teeth scrape together and realised she had unconsciously been grinding her teeth. She felt like throwing the coffee cup out over the railing.

"It's Captain Summers' squadron isn't it?" Willow asked Boone with a tight voice.

"Sorry," even that word sounded like a barb coming from Boone. "We didn't want to tell you, Captain Summers was adamant we didn't. She seemed to think that it would upset you, cloud your judgment."

"She's not wrong there. Slayer Squadron – bunch of jumped up arseholes pretending to be pilots," Willow commented in an acidic voice.

"I heard that they rival the Red Devils for the spot of top squadron in Air Command." Boone apparently did not share her views.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it though does it?"

Willow watched as the lead plane came in - throttle cutting back, nose lifting as its wheels came closer to the carrier's deck. It touched down smoothly, arrester hook catching on the very first wire. Only the best pilots could manage such a landing. With a grinding of wheels the plane came to a sudden and violent halt. The ground crews rushed out to help the plane taxi over the lowered crash barriers to await the arrival of the next plane.

Compared to the tiny Draken, the Gullstrike was large for a fighter plane. It's huge nose made visibility during take off very poor but it more than made up for that by the power of the engine it concealed. Willow watched a small figure emerge from the lead plane. The figure jumped from the cockpit and took off a helmet to shake free long blonde hair. From her vantage point Willow wrinkled her nose. The figure happened to glance up at the bridge, instantly recognising Willow despite the distance the fact that she had her hood up. The blonde waved, Willow could see her shiny white smile. Willow's only response was to tighten her grip to the point that the tin cup had actually began to buckle.

"I also heard that the two of you were best friends at the Academy," Boone asked as the distant figure that was Captain Buffy Summers moved off the flight deck.

"You listen to far too much gossip," Willow replied gruffly, she made to turn inside.

"I also heard that it was your fault." Boone's voice stopped her.

"It's in the past." Willow's eyes narrowed but she wouldn't look at Boone.

"Seems she has every right to hate you for what you did."

"If you know so much about it then why the hell are you asking me?"

"I'm just making a few comments," Boone replied, flashing his white teeth in what Willow thought was supposed to pass as a smile. "I have to deal with having the pair of you on my ship."

Boone then saved Willow the trouble of having to leave by leaving himself. He muttered something about seeing where Dempster was with his coffee. She only managed another few more minutes of the icy wind before the coffee cooled completely and her fingers started to go stiff once again. Several more Gullstrikes had made their landings, but she had watched with only a cursory amount of interest. It wasn't until she was turning to leave that one of them caught her eye. For some reason, Willow couldn't really say why, there was just something that made her unable to turn away. The small figure climbed out of the cockpit and jumped down from the wing of their plane with none of the showy flamboyance that Buffy had displayed. Willow watched with interest as they even helped the ground crew to secure the plane's wings in the folded position for storage below decks. As the pilot worked Willow watched closely until she was sure that, despite the bulky flying gear, the pilot was a woman. It was evident in the way she moved, what little of her face showed beneath the flying helmet and the goggles and the blonde hair that peeked from beneath her helmet. Willow watched and waited, willing her to remove her helmet and goggles.

However the mystery woman never obliged Willow's unspoken wishes. She moved from flight deck, keeping her gaze directed down at her feet. Willow felt a small pang of disappointment when she disappeared completely from view.

_Save it Rosenberg, you're on the same ship, chances are you'll run into her eventually._

Boone retuned with his coffee and Tad in tow. They both moved to watch some of Slayer Squadron's Gullstrikes being lowered on the elevator into the hanger below the flight deck. Willow decided she had lingered in the fresh air long enough and excused herself from their company. Right now listening to the ribald conversation of the Devils seemed a welcome alternative to Tad's awkward attempts and Boone's blatant badgering.

"If you'll excuse me, Tad, Commander." Willow turned with a swirl of her coat.

"See you later, Captain," Tad replied a little too quickly and eagerly.

He watched Willow's back until she was out of sight down the stairs before turning back to the flight deck. He saw that Boone was looking at him strangely and felt very unnerved beneath that gaze. Well, any gaze of the Commander's unnerved him but this even more because he had no idea what kind of gaze it was. Tad took a gulp of his now cold coffee and tried to ignore Boone.

Boone however was not about to be deprived of his amusement. "You've got it bad."

"Huh sir?" Tad thought blushing in front of the Commander was the worst thing he could possibly do.

"You've got the hots for our little Captain Red there. Are you thinking that she'll fit quite nicely in your bunk, Dempster?"

"I-I…wouldn't know sir," Tad spluttered.

Boone nodded with a pleased smile. "And I don't think you'll be finding out any time in the near future. Not with her you won't."

Tad wondered where on earth Boone was going with this line of conversation, was he trying to say that he would put a stop to it if it ever happened? He thought that might be something the Commander would do for the sheer fun of it.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir, why won't it work between Captain Rosenberg and I? Well, besides the fact that I'm sure she doesn't like me."

"Take it easy, tiger, she's just a bit bristly that's all…but that's not what I was saying. I'm fairly certain that our Captain's preferences are exactly the same as yours and mine."

"Preferences for what sir?" Boone was making Tad's head hurt with all this seemingly pointless rhetoric.

"Girls, Dempster," Boone slapped Tad heartily on the back before making his way back inside leaving Tad to frown in bewilderment.

Tad mentally went through the conversation in his head to see if he had missed out on anything. Then it dawned on him and his eyes widened in realisation.

"Oh…girls." Tad's shoulders slumped. _Why do I always pick the lesbians?_

* * *

Willow encountered Captain Elizabeth 'Buffy' Summers before she even had the chance to find the mystery pilot who had captured her attention. She had been doing the utmost to avoid the Squadron Captain, even to the point of taking lunch in her cramped cabin to avoid the officer's mess.

Aside from being on deck, her next preferred spot on the ship was the hanger bay situated just below the flight deck. The two were linked by the large, plane-sized elevators. Her Draken had seen quite a lot of beating up in their flight from the mainland and during its first few days as a carrier based aircraft. Although there were mechanics and crewmen who specialised in keeping the planes in safe, working order, Willow preferred to do most of it herself. There was just something reassuring in knowing that she had checked and double-checked everything personally. Of course if something went wrong mid-flight then she only had herself to blame as she was hurtling from the sky.

She was dressed in a pair of well-used crewmen's overalls, the sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back. Willow was struggling with the pistons in the huge turbo-charged engine of her plane. As she worked she was amazed that they had not seized up mid-flight. The coolant jacket on the engine was punctured for some strange reason and the fluid continued to seep from it even now.

Although she had only been at it for less than an hour, she had already managed to get herself covered in a liberal amount of grease.

_Mum always did say I could get dirty standing still_, Willow mused with a grin as she wiped grease-covered hands on the front of her overalls.

She then used one of her grubby hands to smooth sweat from her brow, no doubt leaving a fine trail of grease in its wake. While the hanger was just as cold as the rest of the ship, she was uncomfortably aware of sweat trickling everywhere due to her exertion. For all her sweaty and grubby discomfort Willow was in her element. Although she could hear the industrious sounds of work being carried out all through the massive hanger, she felt as though she were alone.

"Just you and me baby," she said to the lifeless hunk of metal she loved.

"Willow Rosenberg," a loud voice interrupted her musings and also succeeded in giving her a fright. Her head snapped up and collided with the engine covering. She knocked out the strut holding it up and it slammed shut on her arm.

"Bloody hell!' Willow spat, withdrawing her arm furiously. Her hand had been slashed and a thin trickle of blood was snaking over her knuckles.

Wincing in pain, Willow spun around to see two females standing next to her plane. The short blonde one needed absolutely no introduction. Buffy Summers was grinning smugly. Her long blonde hair was tied back and a silk scarf was wrapped jauntily around her neck. The dark-haired woman, who was also grinning smugly, Willow didn't recognise.

"The old clunker's not holding up too well is it?" Buffy commented. "You know…I always did think that there was something unnatural going on between you and your plane. I finally caught you in the act, huh?"

Willow rested her bleeding hand on the wing of her plane as a reassuring gesture as though it had heard Buffy and might take offence.

"Captain Summers," Willow nodded briefly in greeting.

"If you ask me-" said the dark-haired girl.

_Which I didn't_, Willow thought snappily, not quite daring to say it aloud because she didn't even know the other pilot yet. She would at least wait until she knew her name before she decided to loathe her.

The girl continued, "-They should have taken those Drakens out of commission years ago. Oh wait, they were scheduled to go out of commission but the pansy boys at British Air Command said no. Probably because they knew their pilots couldn't handle something new and improved."

"It's holding up just fine," Willow replied gruffly.

With a last pat on her plane, Willow jumped down, over the wing and her feet landed with a loud thunk of flight boots on metal. Her hand was still smarting as she tried to assume a tough posture. However she just ended up looking as though she were trying to assume a tough posture. Buffy and the newcomer stepped closer, far more successful in their efforts to look tough.

"Rosenberg, this is Faith…my second," Buffy nodded in the direction of the dark-haired girl.

"The infamous Willow Rosenberg," Faith said with a smile and a suggestive wink.

Willow studied Faith as openly as she dared - which meant she snuck glances from the corner of her eye and avoided looking at her directly. Everything about Faith, her posture, the way in which she wore her flight gear, everything reeked of sensuality. The way her lips curled upwards as her eyes drifted over Willow's overall clad body. Willow was uncomfortably aware of the fact that she had undone several of the topmost buttons to cool down as she worked. A significant portion of sweaty skin was bared, too much Willow was beginning to think now.

_She is looking at my tits! That's not fair, I can't bring myself to look at hers. Not that I want to, she'd probably eat me alive…and damn it would she just stop with the ogling!_

"How'd you end up on this floating tin can, Rosenberg?" Buffy interrupted Willow's embarrassment just as her cheeks were beginning to burn.

"I…I don't really wanna talk about it," Willow replied sullenly, folding her arms across her chest. Faith grinned as though she knew what Willow had been thinking. _Oh you wipe that smug grin off your face. I've had hotter women than you...in my dreams. _"It's none of your fucking business."

"Yes well, you're not exactly renowned for being the most level headed pilot around," Buffy pointed out. "But all this must be uncomfortable for you surrounded by nothing but water. As far as I can remember, you can't swim. Now that I think about it, this is definitely the best place for you. I could just push you off the side of the deck…easy."

_That was the last straw! I'm done being ogled and insulted!_ Willow marched up close to Buffy, so close that she could lash out with her hand and shove her to the deck. With any luck, that would wipe the condescending look from Buffy's face.

"It's in the past, Summers. I've lost track of how many times I said I was sorry. I'm not going to spend the rest of my life having you hold it over me like some noose around my neck," Willow said reasonably. "You know full well I have to live with the memory of what happened for the rest of my life."

"Well, sorry doesn't quite cut it," Buffy replied harshly.

"There's nothing else I can do then. See you round," Willow turned and started to walk away, back to her plane.

The last thing she wanted to do was get into an argument with Buffy about what she had done five years ago. Although her guilt would never let her put it fully behind her, she could do without Buffy reminding her of it at every opportunity.

"I heard about Teddy getting killed in an accident. Was that your fault too?" Buffy asked quietly.

Willow couldn't stop herself as her anger rose to boiling point in mere seconds. She spun around and ran at Buffy with her fists clenched, fully intending to wipe that condescending grin right off her face.

Willow's head suddenly snapped backwards as it ran into something solid. She stumbled and tripped over her feet to fall crashing to the ground. Her eye instantly smarted painfully and she looked up to see Faith flexing her fingers with a grin on her face. Willow propped herself up with her hands into an awkward sitting position as the two pilots seemed to loom over her even though neither were very tall to start with.

_Okay ow! Didn't see that one coming. Since when has Buffy needed someone to fight her battles for her? I would've thought she'd be happy to plant her fist in my face. _

"See you around, Rosenberg," Buffy said coldly, she turned and began walking towards the hanger exit.

Faith didn't follow right away. She walked over to Willow's side and knelt slowly.

"We're all stuck in this tin can together, Red. One big fucked-up family. So let's all get along shall we? Friends?" she held out her hand with a smile that freaked Willow out.

The last thing Willow was about to do was accept the hand that Faith was extending towards her. Instead she returned her gaze with a stubborn expression. The defiant quip that would have even the score slightly, would not pop into her head. Rather than appear as though she had nothing to say, Willow acted aloof and turned her head. Faith merely laughed and rose to her feet.

"You had better get some ice on that eye," she said brightly. "We wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea."

She followed Buffy, leaving Willow sitting on the hanger floor. Willow sighed and rested her arm on her knee. She watched blood slowly drip from her cut hand on to the floor in a steady trickle. A sharp pain assaulted her when she clenched her fist. It hurt of course, but at least the pain made her aware that she was still alive. _Unlike Dawn and Teddy_, she thought miserably.

* * *

Willow was sitting her bunk reading by the light of a weak lamp. Her cut hand had required two stitches and was stinging in an annoying way. As though to match, her eye throbbed steadily with each pulse. She didn't need to look in the mirror to know that she wouldn't be winning any beauty pageants at the moment. Her stomach rumbled because she had skipped dinner. The last thing Willow had wanted was to explain the black eye to the rest of her squadron. It would have only resulted in an all out brawl in the mess between the Devils and Slayers.

There was a knock on the door and Willow sat up, wondering who on earth would be stopping by at this late hour. When she set the book on her shelf and waited, there was another knock half a minute later.

"Come in," Willow said warily.

The door opened slowly, almost hesitantly. Willow could only gape stupidly when she saw the person on the other side. It was her. Although Willow's mystery girl had never removed her flying helmet and goggles, she immediately knew it was her. The flawless skin and rose red lips. Willow hungrily sought out the rest of her face that had been hidden and was rewarded by seeing the most brilliant pair of blue eyes she had ever met. Her dark blonde hair fell down over her shoulders.

Willow was so busy staring that she didn't notice the other woman's discomfort. She flinched beneath Willow's intense stare. Her head ducked, bangs falling forward over her face. Finally, when she could no longer see the beautiful blue eyes that had held her captivated, Willow noticed she was gaping. She searched for something witty and endearing to say to make a good first impression but she couldn't come up with anything. Instead an awkward silence hung in the air between them for a lot longer than was comfortable. Even though she had suddenly become a mute, Willow still managed to notice that the other woman had a small bag slung over her shoulder and another in her other hand. Willow frowned and finally found some words to say,

"Can I help you with anything?" As soon as the words had left her lips Willow regretted that she hadn't said them in a nicer tone.

"T-they assigned me to you…I-I mean to your quarters," the blonde stuttered after being subjected to the tone in Willow's voice.

"Huh?" Willow was further reduced to monosyllables.

"S-sorry, Captain Rosenberg. With all the new p-pilots arriving…t-there's a shortage of bunks…Captain Summers told me I-I was to share with you…oh!" the blond blushed bright red and she hurried to clarify. "J-just your room, not your bunk."

Willow jumped to her feet, for a split second she forgot that there was a bunk above her head and she whacked her forehead on it hard.

"Fuck!" Willow hissed angrily, clamping her hand to her head and stamping her foot like a small child as though that would make the pain go away.

After a few moments to clear her head, Willow looked back up at the blond, she had a wide-eyed, panicked look on her face as though she knew she had done something terribly wrong.

"This is Buffy's doing isn't it?" Willow asked, angry that the other Captain was finding time in the middle of all this to play practical jokes on her. "You stay right here, don't touch anything…and when I get back I'm going to have this all straightened out."

Flying Officer Tara Maclay stood awkwardly in the doorway after the volatile redhead had stormed out and down the corridor. Her boots echoed on the metal long after she had left the room. She looked around at the tiny quarters and saw exactly why the Captain was reluctant to share. On one side there was a set of narrow bunks, each with a small shelf set into the wall. The other side was taken up wholly by two lockers, obviously meant for the personal possessions of the occupants. There were very few signs that anyone even stayed in the cabin. The bed was neatly made, only a slight impression showed where a body had been lying moments ago. A single book sat on the shelf and that was it. Most service personnel liberally decorated their quarters to their own personal taste – pin ups torn from magazines, photos of sweethearts and family or favourite sports team. Over head, the tiny light swayed with the motion of the boat and Tara had to quickly look away as its movement made her feel queasy.

Now that she had met the infamous Captain Red, she knew that she had been the figure watching her as she climbed out of her plane several hours earlier. She had felt the oddest sensation.

_Despite the distance between them, she could feel her gaze burning through her bulky flight gear. No matter what she did, Tara was aware that someone was watching her the whole time and it both unnerved and excited her in an odd way. As she knelt down to secure her aircraft to the elevator platform, she dared to risk the briefest glance up to where she stood on the deck high above her. All she caught was a glimpse of pale skin beneath a deep hood. Most of the woman's face was in shadow. _

_Tara couldn't even explain to herself why she kept her flying helmet and goggles on even though there was no reason for it. There was just something about her. Tara shook her head, it was ridiculous. _

_Finally, she couldn't remain under that gaze any longer and she retreated from the flight deck, following the rest of Slayer Squadron to de-briefing. Even as she escaped into the bowels of the carrier, her heart still thumped wildly in her chest for no apparent reason._

_Captain Willow Rosenberg, ace pilot and first class bitch_, Tara thought dejectedly.

She was still holding her sea bags. Although they were reasonably light, her arms were beginning to ache a little. She dared not put them down on the floor in case it looked as though she was making herself at home. It was clear the redhead had set off to do anything in her power to avoid having to share her quarters so Tara didn't expect to be staying. Tara winced just remembering her brief encounter with the Captain of the Red Devils. Buffy had warned her that Willow Rosenberg was a little difficult to get along with…but that temper! She wondered if it was safer to make a run for it now, before she came back.

The redhead returned several minutes later. She moved straight past Tara into the cabin and sat back down on her bunk. When she looked up, she had a very apologetic expression on her face. Although still half-expecting her to burst into a furious tirade, Tara managed to find the backbone to meet her gaze. Her brilliant red hair fell straight down over her shoulders and framed a pale face. Green eyes stared up at Tara, revealing very little as she still had her guard up. Freckles flitted across the bridge of her nose, making her look no older than a teenager although Tara knew full well they were the same age. Her lips were...Tara had been so busy staring, she didn't notice that her own lips had parted ever so slightly in admiration for the young woman sitting in front of her. Inwardly chastising herself, she ducked her head and kept her eyes fixed on the floor. If Captain Rosenberg had noticed the heat in her cheeks, she didn't mention it.

"Flying Officer Maclay, right?" Willow spoke up and received a quick nod from Tara. "I'm terribly sorry for my behaviour, I just spoke with my commanding officer and he backed up exactly what you said. Except that he did mention it was either share with you…or with Buffy."

Willow winced when she remembered Boone's exact words and knew that she would never complain about sleeping arrangements ever again.

"I think I'll take the far more attractive option that's in front of me," Willow announced before she took the time to think that sentence through.

Tara looked surprised. Did the Captain really just say what she thought she'd said?

"Attractive as in better than Buffy!" Willow realised what she had said and moved quickly to cover her tracks, her tongue ran way ahead of her thoughts though. "Although I don't mean attractive as in better looking…although you are far better looking than Buffy." _Earth to Rosenberg, are you even looking at this woman? Comparing her to Buffy is like comparing a rose to a skunk cabbage! Sexy…not Faith-type skanky sexy but hot, sensual sexy…and she's one of Buffy's pilots which probably means that she hates me already so I should just wind up this conversation now._ "I mean, you're a far more attractive as a prospective cabin mate because Buffy and I...well, we don't get along. I's a long story but suffice to say I…I am a complete imbecile."

Tara smiled, relaxing somewhat in the face of the other woman's babbling. It was adorable…even if she was a superior officer.

"Let's try this again," she said extending her hand. "Captain Willow Rosenberg, commanding officer of the Red Devils fighter squadron, formerly of Sussex, England and currently of the middle of nowhere."

"Tara Maclay," Tara reached out to take the proffered hand and grasped it firmly. "Flight Officer, Slayer Squadron, formerly of Sunnydale, California and…currently in the middle of nowhere."

"That's more like it," Willow said with a grin, reluctantly letting go of Tara's hand. "So…cabin mates then, this should be interesting." _Cabin mates, I can live with that…especially if it means a peek at her tits._

Tara saw a look of horror pass over Willow's face and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand as though she were stopping herself from saying something. The blonde frowned for a few moments but she hardly had time to think before the redhead launched into another one of her awkward speeches.

"I took the bottom bunk because, well I was the only one here…but you can have it if you want because I don't mind, top or bottom…it's just as good for me," Willow continued, explaining to Tara where she could stow her kit, oblivious to her inadvertent innuendo.

Although Tara was still listening, she had to suppress a nervous giggle. This was going to be interesting.

_I wonder what she'll say if I tell her she is welcome to keep the bottom bunk…on the condition that I get to share it. Stop it, Maclay, you remember what Buffy said…keep your distance._

Although staring at the redhead's firm arse as she bent over to explain the storage space under the bunks, Tara wasn't so sure she would be able to keep her promise.


	4. The Ace of Hearts

**Chapter Four  
The Ace of Hearts**

Willow did not necessarily find it difficult to share her quarters. Although she had grown up an only child and never had to share a thing throughout her childhood, she had shared a room at both the Academy and as a junior officer. Tara's presence however felt different. The blonde managed to make herself quite inconspicuous. She was quiet, tidy, polite and did not snore or leave wet socks to dry on the end of the bunk. Willow found it all distinctly unnerving. It was like sharing a room with a ghost. Willow was so used to loud, extroverted people in her life that being around someone who wasn't any of those things, was difficult to adjust to.

The weather was absolutely hideous the first two days since the arrival of Slayer squadron. Whereas two sorties a day usually flew from both carriers, all flying had been suspended. As a result a very bored Willow had occupied herself by overhauling her Draken's engine and had rigging up two of the 20mm cannons to take another fifty rounds of ammunition. Not an easy task by any stretch of the imagination but Willow had time on her hands. When she was bored she got very creative.

As Willow worked she had watched the Slayers listen to Buffy. She couldn't hear what the other captain was saying but she knew from experience that the slight blonde was an excellent leader. She often gave impassioned speeches about the most minor of details so for all Willow knew she could have been talking about what was for dinner that evening. Not really interested in watching Buffy speak, Willow craned her neck for sight of Tara and saw the young woman seated off slightly to one side. It was odd, she was so unlike any other pilot Willow had ever met. Pilots were normally extroverted, confident and very often hot-headed. Even those that weren't that way naturally felt obliged to adopt some of the posturing of their comrades. The blonde woman however, was shy to the point of being introverted…a most unusual trait for a pilot. Willow would never admit it to anyone else but she was guilty of having done a fair amount of staring over the past few days. Tara had said very little, even when they were alone in their cabin. Willow was beginning to despair, convinced that they would never have a conversation that consisted of more than, "How was your day?" and Tara's resulting answer of "Fine, thank you." "How's carrier life treating you?" to which Tara would reply, "Fine, thank you." Willow was beginning to think that the blonde wasn't capable of saying much more than "Fine, thank you."

* * *

The Officer's Mess that night was packed to the rafters. The lack of flight time to burn off steam had made for some very bored pilots. There was little else to do besides drink and play an endless amount of cards. The Devils had commandeered one corner of the mess and the Slayers the opposite…as far away from each other as possible. The rivalries between their captains had filtered down to the other pilots and tension was always going to be high between the two crack squadrons.

Five of the Devils were playing poker, Dennis abstained for a mumbled reason that sounded suspiciously like, "My Mum told me not to," and so he spent the game looking on enviously. Willow rocked back on the hind legs of her chair, waving cigarette smoke from away from her face until Spike took the hint and stopped chain smoking. He looked decidedly twitchy after that, Willow chucked him a stick of gum with a grin.

As she sat and scanned the hand that she had been dealt she also scanned the room keenly. She was incredibly disappointed not to find a certain blonde haired Flying Officer amongst the Slayers. When Barrel asked her how many cards she wanted she gave up looking altogether. Willow concentrated on her hand.

"Two," Willow said to Barrel, throwing her discarded cards down on the table.

"Say, have you chaps seen that dark-haired gal with the American squadron?" Charlie asked the other Devils. He nodded his head in the direction of the Slayers across the room.

"How can we not have seen her!" Alex replied excitedly, picking up Charlie's question and risking a nervous glance over his shoulder in the direction of the Slayers. "I mean, how can you miss her? She just screams 'look at me!' Three please."

"What's her name?" Barrel slid three cards in Alex's direction.

"Faith," Alex replied a little too quickly, scooping up his cards and immediately Willow saw his happy poker face, she grinned discreetly.

"Gimme two, Porky." Spike ignored the resulting glare from Barrel at his casual use of the insulting nickname. "That's not all she'll be screaming. Yes Spike, oh god…give it to me!" His voice took on a high-pitched faux girlie voice.

The other four pilots guffawed heartily as Spike growled playfully and watched the dark-haired Slayer over the top of his cards. Willow rolled her eyes and finally got around to picking up her cards

"Scotch please," Willow heard a soft voice ask up at the bar, she looked up to see Tara.

The blonde stood, elbow rested on the bar top. She was dressed informally - uniform pants with a loose white sweater that still managed to accentuate her full breasts. Willow blushed and looked back to her hand. She did not want to get caught staring at a Slayer. She fanned her cards out in her hand and Willow glanced at each in turn. The ten of spades, jack of spades, queen of spades, king of spades - almost a royal flush. Willow held her breath as she pulled out the last card from the back of the hand. She found herself staring at the ace of hearts. As she stared down at the offending card that had totally ruined her hand, she grinned instead of cursing her rotten luck. Her cheeks burned as she stole another glance at Tara.

"Good hand huh, Will?" Alex nudged her playfully.

"Ah, what?" Willow looked up to see her best friend clutching his own cards to his chest.

"No, I'm out. I need another drink," she said, throwing the hand to the table.

Willow slid her chair back and made her way through the throng, towards the bar and towards the blonde who now had her back completely towards her. Her eyes drifted down past Tara's ponytail, over the sweater on her back and to her shapely arse and thighs. Willow wished she could just reach out and place a gentle hand on her hip, just where her sweater ended. The bartender had finished pouring Tara's scotch-on-rocks. Willow reached in her pocket and withdrew the necessary change. There was a small sound as she placed her money on the bar and Tara turned around. She saw gorgeous blue eyes widen in surprise. Willow almost forgot that she had the ability to speak.

"My shout," Willow said quietly. "Ben," she hailed the bartender and nodded in the direction of Tara's drink. "I'll have a double of the same."

"Y-you really don't have to-" Tara began.

"I insist," Willow said with a small smile. _I wonder if she loosens a little after a few drinks. You're not supposed to be buying girls alcohol just to get them drunk…I mean, how low is that?_

"Thank-you, Captain Rosenberg," Tara swept up her drink and moved back into the throngs all too quickly. She made her way over to the other members of her squadron before Willow was able to say a word to stop her.

"You're welcome," Willow whispered, feeling inherently foolish in her hopes that Tara would stay and chat with her. She downed the scotch in one fiery gulp and placed it back on the bar. "I'll have another…with soda." _Take that as a no, Rosenberg. She isn't the slightest bit interested so you should just let it go._

From afar, she watched Tara down her drink in one gulp as well. Her head tipped back to reveal a long, pale neck. She swallowed and visibly winced as she put the glass down.

_She doesn't usually drink? _Willow asked herself as she observed the blonde's uncomfortable reaction.

Willow's staring session was ruined when Faith moved to block her view, leaning in close to say something to Tara. Willow wrinkled her nose and decided it would be best if she stopped gawking and returned to the poker game.

* * *

Tara was desperately hoping that no one noticed her paler than usual complexion as she walked into the crowded and boisterous Officer's Mess. Today had not been a good day with the stormy weather keeping them grounded - or whatever the sea-based form of the word was, watered? Even the huge carrier had dipped and swayed with the motion of the waves around it - leading to the rocking, and the heaving and then the subsequent sea-sickness. Tara was sure she had thrown up everything she had ever eaten, including some unidentifiable substances she didn't remember putting into her mouth in the first place.

As she strolled up to the bar she wondered if drinking really would help or if would just make things even worse. Still, if she was drunk then maybe she wouldn't feel the rocking of the ship any more. _This plan of yours stinks, Maclay._ The bartender was waiting patiently for her request.

_What am I supposed to drink?_ "Scotch please." _Do I even like scotch?_

Tara waited as the bartender poured her scotch over ice, she was fumbling in her pocket to pay for it when someone suddenly slapped some coins down beside her. She spun around and came face to face with her cabin-mate, Captain Rosenberg.

"My shout…"

Tara didn't hear the rest of what Willow said, she was lost in the redhead's eyes.

Tara fumbled quickly for something witty and gracious to say in reply and all she came up with was, "Y-you really don't have to."

"I insist," Willow said.

Tara gathered up her drink and searched for something to say but came up with a blank. She quickly mumbled her thanks and made good her escape into the crowd. The whole time she was moving away she expected the Captain to call out after her but there was nothing. Tara reached the haven of her fellow squadron members and didn't dare a glance over her shoulder to where suspected she was still being watched. Tara glanced down at the drink in her hand for a few moments. Before she could think twice about it, she raised it to her lips and tipped it quickly. The drink went down in one gulp, leaving a hot trail in its wake. She grimaced at the uncomfortable sensation and set the glass down a little shakily.

"Way to go, T," Faith joined her with a smile and two drinks in her hand. "Want another?"

"No." Tara knew it wasn't a good idea.

"Come on, T, free drink! It was for Buffy but she's had more than her fair share already. She's already got her groove on and before you know it, she'll be dancing on the tables."

Tara took the drink without asking what it was and tried to lose herself in the conversation going on around her. Their little gathering quickly became a sculling competition between Faith and the three guys in the squadron with Buffy egging them on and Tara doing her best to look enthused.

Two drinks did nothing to stop the motion of the ship. She was quite sure it was even more pronounced. Her stomach felt violently queasy to the point where she feared she would throw up all down someone's front and make a fool out of herself._ See this is why you don't drink, Maclay. You've only had two and you're already reeling like you've been going at it all day long._

She excused herself and made a hasty exit. She wasn't quite sure where she was going as long as it was out of the crowded room.

Tara didn't quite know how, but she eventually managed to make her way onto the deck. The sky was a deep slate grey, fast fading to black as night took over. It had stopped raining and now the wind just blew with moderate ferocity as she hung on to the railing near one of the anti-aircraft gun emplacements and gulped in a lungful of fresh air. She heard soft footsteps behind her and turned around to see the person she had been trying to avoid all night standing right behind her.

Willow Rosenberg's pale face was shining in the weak light of the night lamps. She held her flight jacket tightly around her and Tara realised for the first time that it was actually quite freezing outside. Tara had been so glad to escape to the fresh air that she had forgotten she didn't have a coat with her. The Captain's hair had escaped from where it had been tucked behind her ears. The wind was whipping it about her face. Willow made no move to brush it from her eyes. She just stood calmly with her arms folded, rocking on her heels as though she were nervous.

"Hey," Willow said gently. "Are you okay?"

Tara's face was as white as chalk with just the hint of green around her cheeks. It didn't make for a pretty sight.

"Seasick," Tara mumbled weakly. "I thought I was alright yesterday, but then today was like this. I haven't been able to keep anything down at all…and the drinks…not the most brilliant idea I've ever had."

_Yes!_ Willow thought excitedly and then quickly shook her head. _No! It's not good that she's sick…but yes that she spoke to me. That was two sentences at least!_

The ship dipped into another massive wave and Tara almost lost her balance altogether. Willow lunged forward across the distance that separated them. She wrapped her arms around Tara and held her steady. Willow laughed in mock fright. Tara found herself laughing too. Willow's laugh was such a beautiful sound. Although she thoroughly enjoyed having Tara in her arms, Willow eventually stepped back and let her go.

"Maybe it would be better if we went back below decks?" Willow suggested. She did not want to try her luck, but she continued tentatively, "Maybe grab a cup of coffee?"

"Sounds like a good idea," Tara replied.

Suddenly she felt a wave of nausea as the ship came back up the other side of the wave. She stumbled to her knees. Before she could even begin to feel embarrassed she threw up over the deck and Willow's boots. Tara coughed, retched a few times before she sat back on her heels. She expected to see Willow looking down at her disdainfully but instead there was a gentle hand on her back, rubbing soothingly. Tara coughed again, feeling her dry throat and the awful taste that lingered in her mouth.

"Come on, let's get you inside," Willow helped her to her feet and placed an arm around her back.

"I'm sorry, sir. I feel like an idiot," Tara mumbled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I'm not normally like this."

"What? Drunk and smelly?" Willow teased. "And cut the sir crap. None of my guys have ever used it. Well, except Dennis…but anyway, my name is Willow, please use it."

"Of course…Willow…that's pretty."

Tara lent most of her weight on Willow as they made their way down a set of stairs and into the corridor. Tara's head as spinning and each step felt as though she were stepping on marshmallow. When she stumbled, Willow caught her before she could fall to the floor. She drew her back to her feet and her arm went securely around Tara's waist to keep her steady. For a moment, Tara enjoyed the feel, the warmth of Willow's arm resting there and for just a split second she leant into her embrace.

"Come on, I'll get you to bed," Willow said softly, once she was sure Tara wasn't going to fall again.

_I'll get you to bed. _The words hit Tara like a bucket of ice cold water and she stopped. Tara surprised Willow by shrugging out of her arms. Willow made no effort to hold on as the blonde stepped away.

"I'll get myself to bed thank you, sir. I'm keeping you from your squadron. No doubt they will be missing your good company."

"No, it's no trouble-" Willow began only to be cut short by Tara.

"I-I've embarrassed myself enough for the evening already. P-please don't make it any worse than it already is," Tara asked Willow quietly, the shame sneaking into her voice.

Willow frowned, not quite understanding what Tara meant but she nodded anyway. "O-okay."

"Good evening, Captain Rosenberg," Tara turned and walked unsteadily down the corridor towards the crew quarters and in the opposite direction from the mess.

Willow watched her leave with a sigh and wondered just what she had to do to win the trust of the beautiful blonde. _Maybe if you stopped acting like you're on heat every time you're around her, that might help. But I'm not! That's the problem._ She turned towards the mess and went back to rejoin the poker game, although knowing that her heart would no longer be in it.

* * *

_**California, 1931**_

"Please Buffy…come on, I've been waiting around all day for you guys and besides, you promised!" Dawn batted her eyelashes at her big sister.

"I'll take her up Buff, you're beat."

"Sure thing, Will. Just go easy on her okay. I don't want to have to drive home with someone who stinks of vomit."

"Hey, I threw up on my first flight and it's not my fault you did one of those great big twisty things without any warning!"

"It was only barrel roll…and you asked me to do one," Buffy said with a grin, she chucked her flight helmet in Dawn's direction and the youngster caught it happily.

"Come on Willow!" Dawn said over her shoulder as she ran for the Tiger Moth. "We'll be able to see the sunset."

Willow smiled knowingly at Buffy and grabbed her helmet and goggles before following Dawn.

Dawn had already climbed in the forward cockpit and Willow checked that she had her harness done up tightly. The girl was grinning from ear to ear, practically bouncing in her seat as she waited for Willow to check everything.

"Lots of barrel rolls please Willow…in a row!"

"We'll see sweetie…I might not be up to it." Willow grinned and clambered into the rear cockpit.

With a cough and a splutter, the biplane came to life. In seconds they were in the air, the ground falling away behind them. The last of the sun rays falling across the landscape in a golden glow. Willow loved the feeling of the wind in her face. She moved the stick gently to the right and the plane banked in a slow arc over the field. Buffy was waving at them, a tiny figure far below. Willow juggled the stick left and right a few times and the plane waggled its wings for the spectators. She then opened up the throttle completely, punching the tiny Tiger Moth upwards and into the sky.

The plane levelled out at a few thousand feet and its two occupants gazed out over the landscape as the last rays of sunlight left the land. The bright blue day gradually gave way to a pink tinged dusk. Just for a few moments, Willow closed her eyes to feel the wind against her cheeks, to really feel herself flying.

Willow opened her eyes once more and grinned. It was exhilarating, the feel of having the whole sky to roam and Willow wanted to explore every inch of it. As she kicked the plane over into a roll she heard Dawn squeal happily over the din of the engine and she laughed with her.

As she laughed, Willow knew she wanted to be doing this for the rest of her life. Her parents had always told their only child that she could do whatever she put her mind to and they were right. Willow's high school grades were good enough to open any path she chose…doctor…scientist. If Ira and Sheila Rosenberg had ever doubted the wisdom of her choice, they hadn't given Willow the slightest clue.

"Air Command…how very lovely," her mother had said holding her close.

"You'll look absolutely splendid in one of those dashing flying uniforms honey." Her father had smiled and ruffled her hair.

And that had been that. At the age of seventeen she'd enrolled in Air Command's pilot training scheme and had been sent to California. Willow remembered arriving in a foreign country feeling very small and alone. She'd barely been able to raise her voice above a whisper the first day at the Academy and had quickly been jostled and shunted to one side in what was a loud and busy world. She had been beginning to feel it was the wrong choice when she had been bowled over, literally, by a miniature whirlwind. When the two young women had disentangled their limbs and helped each other to their feet, the whirlwind introduced herself as Buffy Summers. It was the beginning of friendship that was to go down in Air Academy history as one of the most infamous on record. If there was any sort of trouble the instructors could bet their bottom dollar that it involved Summers and Rosenberg. .

Willow even found a home away from home with Buffy's family. Her mother, Joyce and her little sister, Dawn, had invited her into their lives with open arms. She fitted in easily and for the first time realised what it was like to have sisters. Her own parents worried about her from afar of course, Sheila sent her copious care packages mainly containing Willow's favourite earl grey tea. She was convinced that Americans didn't know the first thing about tea.

_A nice cup of tea…that'd go down a treat…but first…barrel rolls!_

Willow laughed as she gunned the throttle and yanked the stick back as she entered the first of the series of requested barrel roles. The world became inverted, the sky became the ground and vice versa and yet Willow was in perfect control. The bi-plane was an extension of her body, perfectly blended into one instrument. Everything she made the plane do, every twist and turn…she felt it all as one continuous movement, a strange dance of sorts. Using her limbs, Willow couldn't dance to save herself but in a plane it was a different story.

Willow knew something was wrong before the Tiger Moth gave any outward sign of a problem. It was every pilots worst nightmare and yet when it happened Willow didn't panic. The first lesson she had learnt was that you never panic.

_The engine's stalled._

Willow calmed pushed the ignition switch in once more even as the plane fell into a silent spin towards the earth. It spluttered, coughed and belched smoke before the prop kicked into life. Willow levelled the plane out and saw the ground rushing past all too close beneath them.

She turned the plane around, heading back towards the field despite the fact that the plane sounded fine. When the stick was beginning to feel as though it were mired in glue Willow knew that their joyride was over for the evening.

The field stretched out before them as Willow guided the plane into land, coming closer and closer to touching down. The engine began to splutter again and Willow eased up on the throttle, slowing their speed…guiding it gently.

"Almost there, Dawnie," Willow yelled.

No sooner than the words were out of her mouth, the engine stalled completely again. At that height the plane lost airspeed all too rapidly and there was very little that Willow could do. The ground was rushing up incredibly as Willow fought to keep the plane level. The Tiger Moth was practically unresponsive but Willow remained calm. Despite her relatively short career, Willow had already experienced several crash landings. It was all a piece of cake really. All she had to do was keep the plane level and they'd touchdown perfectly.

Onlookers screamed as the plane suddenly sideslipped and its lower wingtip dug into the grass covered field.

Willow's world turned upside down again, although it was not in a good way. She heard Dawn scream once. She heard the wrenching of metal and saw clumps of dirt fly past. The plane cart-wheeled over twice before it flopped over on its back. Willow's head went smashing into the instrument panel and blackness claimed her mercifully.

The plane ground to a halt eventually, giving the small crowd of people running after it an opportunity to catch up. Buffy was yelling for Dawn and Willow as she ran with all her strength. Her legs flew across the grass in an effort to reach her best friend and sister.

Willow was vaguely aware of hands grabbing at her, tugging her away from the plane. Someone had her by the shoulders as another struggled to undo the harness that kept her trapped in the plane. It was stuck…or rather she was stuck. Through her haze Willow smelt the cloying fumes of aviation fuel leaking from the tank and a small moan escaped her lips.

_Please don't let the fuel tank go up…Dawnie!_

Finally the straps came free and Willow half fell from the cockpit before strong arms caught her. She didn't fall all the way however, her leg was jammed awkwardly between crumpled struts in the cockpit. The struts snapped with the added weight and Willow felt massive waves of pain go shooting up her leg and through the rest of her body. She fell from the cockpit fully and into strong arms that kept her from continuing on to meet the ground. The pain caused her to black out completely.

Her leg hurt…the air was hot, reeking of burning aviation fuel. Someone was screaming and Willow tried to open her eyes. It hurt like heck to try at first but gradually she managed and found herself lying on her back. She thought the sun had come up again but it was just the wreck of the Tiger Moth which had caught on fire.

"Dawn!" Willow tried to sit up but was met with fresh waves of pain.

"No, Willow," someone was saying. "You have to keep still."

Willow squeezed her eyes shut, god it hurt! Someone was still screaming and Willow realised they were saying the same name over and over again. "Dawn…Dawn!" _Buffy, it's Buffy screaming for Dawn…is Dawn alright…is she?_

* * *

Buffy sat with a very straight back in the chair beside Willow's hospital bed. Willow lay propped up with several pillows, a tray of what obviously was supposed to pass for food rested on her lap. She had taken one bite of the mashed potato and it now sat like a lump in her throat, refusing to budge.

Buffy's expression was blank but her hands kept smoothing non-existent wrinkles in her dress. Willow finally managed to swallow the lump of potato and she set her fork down gently. There was no point in trying to eat anything anyway.

The silence was painful in itself and yet to speak was even worse. When Buffy finally spoke, her voice was tensed and strained.

"I've seen you land a stalled plane before Willow. You even landed in a peat bog once and came out without a scratch…what happened this time?" Buffy asked quietly, too calmly. "Why did the plane flip?"

"I-I don't know Buffy," Willow ducked her head and looked at the food tray. "They said that the fuel pump stopped working for some reason…so the Moth stalled."

"But why did the plane flip Willow? You were the one behind the stick. You had control of that plane and yet for no apparent reason it flipped."

"Buffy, I'm sorry, I said I was sorry. What more can I do? There wasn't anything else I could have done, I swear-"

"You had control of that plane! My little sister was in your hands!"

Willow felt the tears sting her eyes once more, like she hadn't done enough crying already for the youngest Summers. She had cried until her eyes felt raw.

"She was twelve, Willow…twelve!"

"B-Buffy-"

"My sister is dead. There's nothing you can say. I just hope your guilt eats you away from the inside out. I pray to god that it hurts for the rest of your miserable life!"

Buffy pushed back the chair and ran from the room. Willow was left propped up in bed, the tray on her lap and her right leg stuck out awkwardly in front of her, encased in plaster. Hot tears fell again and Willow reached for some tissues to blow her nose. The tray rattled and Willow picked it up and threw it against the wall with a sob. There was a loud clattering of metal tray and broken crockery as mashed potato and gravy ran down the wall in a gooey mess.

* * *

_**The Present**_

Willow's eyes opened and she sighed to find herself in the relative comfort of her own bunk. She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the bottom of Tara's bunk. For the first time she wondered how the blonde had managed to get herself up there last night in her inebriated state. Willow heard a soft moan from the blonde as she turned in her sleep.

A shiver ran down her spine and Willow realised that she was cold. She was always cold on the carrier but this morning it was more pronounced. Her leg ached as a reminder of the crash that had killed Dawn Summers, the reality of the nightmare.

She tucked her blanket up around her chin and tried to get another hour or two of sleep. However sleep was a long time in coming.


	5. The Sky Falls

_**Chapter Five  
The Sky Falls**_

_**Egypt, 1922**_

"Dr. Maclay, it's just so odd. It's obviously not Ancient Egyptian…or maybe it is and we just haven't seen anything like it before…oh…oh-oh! This could be one of the finds of the century!" Kathy Rogers said in a very out of breath voice as she scurried to keep up with the other woman's longer legs.

"Kathy, slow down or you'll burst a blood vessel," Diana Maclay said with a smile as she wiped her dusty and sweaty brow with her handkerchief.

Diana stood still for one moment. Herr blue eyes surveyed the general area where whatever it was had lain at rest under the sands, probably for more than a millennia. She was a fairly tall woman. Her lithe body was clad in a khaki shirt and shorts. Only a few strands of her blonde hair were visible, most were tucked up under a wide brimmed hat. She was a beautiful woman. Only the faint smile lines around her eyes and the corner of her mouth indicated that she was actually in her thirties.

"Do you think I'll get the credit for it? It is on my dig site," Kathy continued to speak in a hopeful tone.

Diana gave Kathy a 'look' that said she was getting a little carried away. It was followed very quickly by small, warm smile to which Kathy responded with a sheepish grin.

"So, how's your family?" Kathy asked as they walked over the rocky ground.

"Just fine when I left them thank you. Although Robert has probably been driven crazy looking after the farm and the kids by himself. We bought Donny a sled for Christmas so I sincerely hope there are no broken limbs waiting for me when I get home." Diana chuckled.

"And you have a little girl as well don't you?"

"Tara, she begged and begged to be allowed to come with me this trip but with school and everything it was too difficult. I told her she might be able to come for the summer."

"That'll be great," although as she said it Kathy wasn't too thrilled at the idea of having a child running around the site.

"I hate leaving them. They try and put on such brave faces whenever I go away, they're both such wonderful, bright children," Diana looked at Kathy and smiled apologetically. "Sorry…I could gush about them for hours."

"That's alright, Dr Maclay…ah, here we are."

Diana paced out the last few steps to the site which had been cordoned off with ropes. She frowned and tried to puzzle out what it was that she was seeing. When the call from the site had come through to the museum in Cairo, Diana had listened to Kathy's breathless tones with a patience that only someone who had small children could possess. She had agreed to make the trip out to the dig site but had fully expected to find a World War One relic or some other piece of rubbish. However, as she knelt down beside the smooth metallic surface of what had been uncovered so far she was beginning to think that it was indeed a find of significance. Unknown significance of course because Diana had no more idea of what it was than Kathy did. It did very much look like the wing of strange plane.

"You think it's some sort of flying…thingee?" Kathy asked standing just behind her, echoing her thoughts.

"I'm not sure…I know a fair bit about aircraft, having an eleven year old son who just can't get enough of them would turn anyone into an expert. Though this just seems to be…unworldly, is that even a word?" Diana pictured her son's bedroom and the model aircraft hanging from the ceiling, this was quite unlike any of them.

Diana reached out towards it and held her hand just above the surface. It was a strange thought but she could have sworn that the air around it suddenly became warmer. A low pitched hum filled her ears, buzzing, getting inside her head. She felt as though an insect had flown in her ear.

"Can you hear that?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at Kathy.

"Hear what?" Kathy asked with a frown.

Diana shook her head to say 'don't worry' and lowered her hand slowly, the buzzing and the warmth increased. She reached out a single hand to touch the surface but when she came within inches of contact he hand felt as though it were magnetised. Her skin slammed down on the surface and it was burning with an intense heat.

"Was it hot when you touched it?"

"No, just felt like it had been buried in the desert, all sandy and stuff…smooth beneath that though…that's about it," Kathy shifted from one foot to the other, she hated not knowing what she was talking about.

Diana nodded and tried to pull her hand away but found it stuck fast…as though it were glued. Her brow furrowed at first in bewilderment and then in fear when the metal began to glow even warmer. In mere seconds it was glowing red hot, Diana felt her skin begin to burn painfully and a small whimper escaped her throat. She was about to tell Kathy to go and fetch some help when the buzzing suddenly culminated in a piercing whistle. She clapped her free hand over her ear but it did nothing to block the sound out, it was actually inside her head.

"Dr Maclay?" Kathy asked when she suddenly noticed a strange look on the other woman's face…not to mention her strange behaviour.

Diana didn't reply, she just looked as though she were in pain. All of a sudden her head snapped back and her eyes glazed over as she stared upwards.

"Dr Maclay?" Kathy tried to place a hand on the older woman's shoulder and break her from this strange trance but she was flung backwards by an unknown energy that radiated from her.

Kathy scrambled backwards using her hands, all the while watching in terror as Diana started to shake uncontrollably. Her lips moved as though she were trying to say something but no words would form. The energy crackled and sizzled in the air, glowing first a faint green before becoming an intense red. So intense Kathy felt the heat radiating from it.

"No, you can't!" Diana suddenly screamed. "We won't give it to you without a fight!"

There was a huge flash, Kathy had to shield her eyes for a few seconds. When she turned back the glow was gone and everything returned to normal. Diana Maclay was lying facedown across the metal, unmoving. Kathy scrambled to her feet and ran to her side. She felt desperately for a pulse.

"Someone help me!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

_Oh please God no!_ Kathy kept repeating in her head as she waited for help to arrive. "Someone help!"

* * *

_**Oregon, 1922**_

Tara sat poised on her brother's shiny new red sled at the top of a snow covered hill. Her breath came in quick gulps, her breath freezing in front of her face. It seemed so steep as she looked down it, stretching on for ages and they were sure to go very fast indeed. She wasn't so sure if this was such a good idea anymore…

"You ready?" Donny asked from behind her.

"Y-yes…I t-think so, slowly Donny please…slow…" she gripped the rails at the side a little more tightly.

He brother laughed, "You'll love it Tare!" and with that he pushed the shed over the rise, jumping on the sled just as it began sliding downwards. The runners on the sled were smooth being brand new and they gathered speed very quickly as it raced down the slope. Tara felt the cold winter air biting her cheeks but her mouth quickly spread into a huge grin. It was fantastic, shooting down the slope as though at any second they might take off and up into the sky.

"Woo hoo!" Donny was yelling from behind her.

Tara laughed happily, soon joining her brother in his exuberant shouts. Where there had previously been fear at the thought of sliding down the slope all too fast. There was nothing but exhilaration.

Someone was crying in pain…a scream, a sob.

Tara's eyes widened and her grin vanished as she heard the sounds of someone in pain in her mind. She felt hot all of a sudden, even though she had previously been quite cold in the snow. Images, thoughts rushed through her head. She saw pictures in her mind of places she had never been. Yet they were familiar – sand, mountains, and strangely shaped rocks. Tara remembered the postcard they had received from her mother in Egypt the day before. The pictures in her mind were the same - only real. Her mother was the one crying out.

"_Donny…Tara…I love you both so much."_

"Mama?" Tara said it aloud without intending to.

"What was that Tara?" Donny asked her between loud yells of excitement.

She heard her mother scream again inside her head, something was hurting her - no something was killing her. There was something else in Tara's mind with the thoughts of her mother. It was a shadowy presence that she couldn't make out. However she knew that whatever it was it was hurting her mother and it terrified her.

"Mama!" Tara felt something tear into her mind, she felt the pain, "Ow!"

She lost her grip on the sled and before she could stop herself, tumbled from the fast moving platform. Tara hit the soft snow hard, sending showers of it up around her as she rolled down the slope. She couldn't stop herself, over and over she rolled until she was dizzy. Finally she came to a sliding halt at the bottom, she lay on her back staring up at the sky and feeling very scared. She heard someone yelling for her, the sound of boots hurrying through the snow. Seconds later Donny came to kneel beside her, a scared look on his face as well.

"Tara, are you killed?" he asked, awkwardly brushing snow from her face with a mitten covered hand. "Please don't be killed. I-I'll be in trouble if you are."

No, she was still alive. Yet Tara had a terrible feeling in her stomach. It hurt so much that she started crying. Her brother looked down at her with the expression of someone who was totally out of their depth. He kept patting her cheek as though that would somehow help.

Tara was eventually able to sit up with help from her brother. She felt cold tears on her cheeks, almost frozen in the winter air. For some reason she couldn't stop blubbering. She felt much younger than her nine years. Her brother was flustered, he kept trying to sooth her with awkward sounds. As he helped her to her feet he patted her back.

"Come on, we'll get you back to the house. You can walk alright can't you?" he looked at her legs to check that she was standing and that nothing looked broken.

Tara allowed herself to be half led, half pushed back up the hill and towards home. She stumbled along in a blind daze, not knowing or being able to understand what had just happened. The only thing she knew was that it had something to do with her mother. Something terrible had happened.

* * *

Tara sat eating her porridge before school. As she spooned it into her mouth, Donny was on the other side of the table making silly faces in an effort to cheer her up. He was still very disgruntled that she had ruined a whole weekend of sledding by refusing to go out again with him after her spill.

There was a knock at the front door and Tara and Donny both looked up. Their father came from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. The look on his face said he was obviously wondering who could be stopping by this early in the morning and for what reason. He moved out into the porch and opened the door, Tara and Donny both hurriedly got out of their chairs and hid at the kitchen doorway…curious as to who it could be. The door opened to reveal two uniformed police officers who removed their hats when they said hello. Donny and Tara frowned at each other before looking back to the door.

"Mr Robert Maclay?" one of them asked in a solemn voice.

"Yes officer, how can I help?" there was a note of suspicion in Robert Maclay's voice.

"We've come about your wife Diana Maclay."

"She's not here," Robert replied quickly, defensively. "Diana is in Egypt working on a dig. She's an archaeologist you see."

"We're very sorry, Mr Maclay-" one of them began in a sombre tone.

"Has something happened to Diana?" Robert interrupted. "Please tell me what has happened to Diana?"

"There was some sort of accident. We don't have very many details-"

"Accident? Is she alright? She isn't…" Robert's voice rose slightly in pitch, an urgency to it that indicated how scared he was.

"We're sorry, Mr Maclay, your wife died."

Tara felt her brother's hand shoot out and grab her shoulder. His fingers were digging in a little hard but she didn't even notice that it hurt. She reached her own hand up to cover his, feeling it shake uncontrollably. Tara didn't hear what the rest of the two police officers had to say, she was too busy watching her Daddy's face. It became progressively sadder to the point where she knew he was about to cry. She had never seen him cry before, not ever and that scared her. It really made her believe that what the policemen had said was true.

Robert closed the door in a daze. He turned around and saw two faces peering at him from around the kitchen doorway. He tried so very hard to keep his emotions in check. He did not want the children to see him break down. Yet before he knew it a sob burst from his throat, he pressed his hand to his mouth firmly. Tara and Donny both looked so scared, so young. He held out his arms weakly and they needed no further invitation. Both Donny and Tara crossed the short distance in a great hurry and threw themselves into their father's arms as sobs racked both their small bodies.

Tara buried her face in her father's strong chest as the tears kept coming. Her fingers gripped his shirt until her knuckles were white. It hurt so much, even as he stroked her back soothingly and whispered that everything would be alright in a hollow voice. Tara knew everything was not alright as she choked on her tears. She was terrified because she had felt it happen. She had felt her mother die.

* * *

_**Biggin Hill Air Command base, 1936**_

The day the sky fell dawned bright in comparison to the day before which had been a typical English day – slate grey and threatening to rain. Eventually the cloud had cleared and a weak winter sun shone down on the bleak, brown landscape. It was still fairly chilly but the sun carried the promise of a little warmth as the day wore on. Corporal Greg Farnham felt warmer than he had in days. He whistled while he made his way towards the number two hanger. Greg was repairing a Draken that some numbskull pilot had come in to land with its undercarriage still up. The damage wasn't too bad. It was mostly the bent prop which would need replacing completely. He paused once he reached the hanger and pulled out the cigarette that he had earlier tucked behind his ear. Checking to see that his sergeant wasn't anywhere in the vicinity he lit it up. Greg stood and enjoyed the view of Biggin Hill as it gradually woke up. A line up of Drakens sat on the edge of the field waiting for their pilots to take them up for an early morning exercise. In the field just beyond the airstrip Greg could see a farmer mustering his dairy herd. _A perfect morning._

On any other similar morning, Greg's musings would have been completely correct. What he didn't know as he stubbed out the butt of his cigarette, was that this was the day that they course of history was destined to change. Greg hadn't even started work as he walked into the hanger and already he was counting down the hours until his morning tea break.

"Heya, Danny boy," he waved greeting to another mechanic as he turned to enter the hanger.

"How's that Draken looking?" Danny asked him with a wink.

"Fine no thanks to the moron who was flying it."

Suddenly there was a huge crash and Greg and Danny both spun around to see an explosion erupt on the far side of the field. As Greg stared in surprise he wondered for a moment if the munitions dump had gone up. _Someone's going to be singed around the edges for smoking too close to the ammo!_ The two men stared in confusion until there was a second explosion, closer this time. A steady whine filled the air as the air raid siren was activated and it was quickly followed by men running from the hanger towards the nearest air raid dugout. Greg joined them, sprinting for the low, sandbagged trench that seemed to be miles away. He threw himself in and landed on top of another man.

"Steady on chum!" his squashed victim picked himself back up. "Anyone would think it was the end of the world.

Greg looked upwards as a high-pitched drone filled the air overhead. It made everyone look up to see the same sight. A single black shape banked over the airfield…at first Greg thought it was a very large, black bird. Then he realised it was some sort of plane, although it was unlike anything he had seen before. It was a dark shape that seemed to swallow the blue sky around it, Greg felt a chill run down his spine just from looking at it. The aircraft expert in him wondered how it could possibly stay in the air. It was more of a flying wing than the sort of plane used by Air Command. He couldn't see a propeller or a tailplane or flaps or anything else that even made it look like it should be able to fly.

He had no time to muse over it further. He was forced to duck his head when more explosions erupted closer than the first. The lone high-pitched drone was joined by others and Greg realised in fright that there were dozens of them screaming through the air. He risked another quick glance to see one sweep low over the field, blue lights burst from the wingtips and strafed the field. When the lights hit the parked Drakens, the planes disappeared almost instantly in balls of flame. Greg's eyes widened as he realised they were bullets of some sort. _They're heading this way, fuck!_ He ducked just as something tore into the sandbags above his head, showering him in dirt and sand.

He looked straight up as the black bird shape flew right above the trench. A coldness crept over his entire body as he watched it continued on towards the hangers. In a sickening crash of twisted metal and exploding glass, the blue bullets ripped the nearest structure to pieces.

"What are they?" Danny gasped. "What the fuck are they?"

"Something the bloody krauts cooked up!" another cowering mechanic yelled over the din.

"I don't know but for some reason I don't think they're German," Greg said as he huddled against the wall of earth that made up the side of the trench.

He gathered his knees to his chest to stop them shaking and wrapped his arms around them. All of a sudden it was so very cold again even though the sun was still shining brightly. Another explosion burst meters from their trench and Greg slammed his hands over his ears after the noise almost blew out his eardrums. Showers of dirt rained down on them and clouds of smoke obscured his vision, blocking out the sun. Greg buried his head in his arms and whimpered as the sun ceased shining.

* * *

Willow glanced around at the other pilots assembled in the tiny briefing room and wondered why they had all been called at this hour of the morning. The way everyone was rushing around it was almost as though there was a war on. Willow's eyes widened and a shiver ran down her spine. _Holy crap…war._

She found herself a seat near the front of the room and sat forward like an eager child. Boone was pacing up and down the small space at the front of the room, waiting for everyone to be seated. He glanced out at the gathering of pilots and Willow saw for the first time a complete lack of the familiar sardonic grin that Boone usually wore. Instead it was replaced by an expression that was strictly all business. He had suddenly ceased being an arrogant prick and was now the Commander of a naval vessel. He cleared his throat once. This was very quickly followed by an immediate cessation of all other sounds in the room. Everyone turned their gaze to Boone with matching expressions. The same expectant but wary look that Willow knew was on her own face.

He began to pace again, leaving them all in a painful silence. Willow saw Tara sitting on the opposite side of the room. For some reason her eyes always sought out the blonde wherever she was. Willow found Tara staring down at her lap, her hair obscuring most of her face but from the small patch of cheek that Willow could see was even paler than usual. She wore a thick woollen hat and her arms were wrapped tightly around herself as though she were trying desperately to retain heat. Willow thought it was definitely cold, but it wasn't that cold. Willow had no more time to wonder what was up with the strange blonde because Boone had finally started speaking.

"At 0700 hours this morning a synchronised aerial invasion destroyed the Air Command bases at Biggin Hill, Kenly, Manston, Hawkinge, Shoreham…"

Willow's jaw dropped as Boone continued to list the names of almost every major air base in Southern England. It was an invasion.

"Also other key army and navy bases were hit at the same time. In a single strike the enemy succeeded in rendering useless almost sixty percent of our total military forces." Boone's voice was tight. There was an anger there that was barely controlled. "We have sketchy reports filtering in from the United States and from continental Europe saying the same thing - single synchronised strike against key military targets throughout the world."

"The world?" a pilot near the back called out in an incredulous voice. "Then who?"

"We have no confirmed reports as to who is behind the strikes. I can offer you no further information except to say that from now on the Fifth Fleet is on full alert. We will continue into the North Atlantic staying under the net at all times and will wait for instructions from further up the chain."

"What if they're all dead?" someone piped up nervously.

"There will be no more questions. All alcohol distribution has been suspended. We're at war gentlemen…and ladies. All squadron Captains will report to me at 0630 hours tomorrow morning. That will be all, until further notice."

He strode purposefully from the room and as soon as the door closed behind him, the room erupted into a tirade of conversations, everyone speaking at once, everyone with a question to ask. The Devils all turned to Willow as though she knew something more than they did.

"Way to go, Boone, a new method to instil confidence in the troops. Not tell them anything as to what the fuck is going on! Will, you must know something more?" Alex asked.

"Synchronised strikes worldwide?" Spike's eyebrows raised sky high. "Okay now who the heck can muster the forces to manage that? It's a bloody drill or a government conspiracy to try and scare the balls off us!"

"Well, they wouldn't have to scare you very hard now would they, cobber?" Charlie knuckled Spike's head.

"Shut up, you wanker!"

"Shut up all of you!" Willow jumped up to push Charlie and Spike apart, knocking her chair over. "I don't know a bloody thing. I'll pass on whatever Boone tells me tomorrow. For now, just hit your bunks, try and get some rest."

"Hah! Like we could!" Alex scoffed. "The world ending and all."

"The world is not ending," Dennis finally piped up. "We're at war."

He suddenly paled as he realised the full implications of the 'w' word that had just left his lips. His smooth, terrified face turned to Willow.

"You don't think…they'd hit civilians? My Mum's in London."

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Dennis," Willow replied, although thoughts of her own parents, also in London, crossed her mind. "Now all of you calm down. Hit your racks, go play cards if you can't sleep, knit yourself a pair of socks, whatever. I'll have some more answers for you tomorrow."

* * *

Managing to escape from the rest of her squadron, Willow made her way to the fairly empty flight deck. The sky was grey, almost black. It seemed as though it was early evening as opposed to midday. Willow looked skywards. She wondered how much longer they had until they were sent up there to combat whatever it was that had torn through the pride of the English air force like it were butter.

Willow had always loved the idea of being a fighter pilot but going down in a flaming, glorious death was not exactly on her list of things to do in her life. She quite liked the idea of sitting in her armchair at an advanced age with a small horde of grandchildren gathered around her feet as she held them captivated with tales of her flying exploits. Crazy old Nana Willow.

"Grandchildren, hah!" Willow said quietly to herself. _Having grandchildren would require me to first have children…and that means having a fella, slight problem there, Rosenberg. Maybe Alex will let me tell stories to his grandchildren._

"You know-" a voice said from behind Willow. "Talking to yourself is the first sign of lunacy."

Willow whipped around, embarrassed and annoyed that her quiet reflection time had been disturbed, especially by the one person she could least deal with at this point in time…Tara Maclay.

"Yeah, well it's worse to not talk at all!" Willow snapped back all too quickly.

Tara ducked her head and now that she could see her fully and up close, Willow saw the blonde was more than pale. There was almost no colour in her face at all, save for her lips being a faint shade of purple. Even her normally bright blue eyes seemed as though a shadow hung in front of them - dark and grey. Willow looked away, feeling guilty for snapping and yet at the same time feeling something of an entirely different, inappropriate nature. Tara Maclay was everything she did not normally look for in a woman – quiet, withdrawn and decidedly weird. However there was something about her that held Willow in thrall. She wanted to know more about her and unravel the mystery that was Tara Maclay. Exactly why she was spending her time doing this in the middle of a war, she was entirely sure.

_So I like the woman…so what? I'll get over it, I'll handle it._

Even so, as Willow turned back to look at the pale blonde once more she found herself holding her breath. She found everything about Tara fascinating, her beauty…her vulnerability. She wanted to cross the distance between them and take Tara in her arms, to protect her against whatever it was that was affecting her so visibly.

"I'm sorry," Tara replied simply.

"Huh?" Willow asked. _There you go again Rosenberg, showing your mastery of the English language._

Tara looked at her, a liquid gaze that managed to melt everything inside, turn her legs to custard.

_What is it with me at the moment?_ Willow asked herself angrily. _Willow, there's a war on, W-A-R which normally means guns and killing and deadness, all the not so good stuff…and god I want to fuck her_! She clenched her fists tightly, annoyed at the way her hormones were raging at the worst of moments.

"For the way I acted last night, I was rude and I'm sorry." Tara said quietly. She would not admit the part where she was intimidated by Willow.

"That's fine," Willow replied quietly. "And I'm sorry too…about the way things are between us."

"How do you mean?" Tara frowned.

"Awkward," Willow said watching the blonde's face closely for a reaction.

"I-I guess." _Awkward is an understatement…torturous would be a far better choice of word, _Tara thought. "Things are a little awkward."

"Why is that?" Willow asked bluntly.

"I don't know, perhaps we started off on the w-wrong foot. I mean, of course we did. You tried to throw me out of your room." There was a hint of humour in Tara's voice.

"I think we started on opposite sides of the deck," Willow grinned quickly to relieve her own tension. "You being in Buffy's squadron and all," Willow saw a flicker of something that might have been acknowledgement pass over the blonde's features.

"I don't know," Tara said softly. "But even if it was, I don't see why that should prevent us from being…friends or on friendly terms at least."

"Me neither," Willow admitted. _Friends is good we can start from there - friends can engage in fun nocturnal activities like chinese whispers, midnight snacks…and sex_. Willow sighed in exasperation at her own thoughts.

She crossed to the rail and gripped it tightly, looking out over the dark ocean and the ships sailing upon it. Each one looked menacing, strong…perfect for what was about to happen. That was what Willow had to concentrate on, the all-important task at hand. She couldn't do this with Tara. It wasn't the right time. More than likely, it would never be the right time.

"Um…d-do you want to…grab that c-coffee?" Tara asked quietly, ducking her head again.

A chilling wind swept up off the sea, Willow watched as it blew Tara's hair away from her face to reveal her alabaster skin. Willow just wanted to reach out and cup the cheek with her now trembling hand. _Friends._

"Um, I'll take a raincheck," Willow replied. "I think I should go and check in on my guys. They'll probably be at bursting point by now and I really don't want any of them to get in trouble…not now."

"O-oh…of course, you should totally be with your squadron…and I-I should be with mine…I-I'll see you later, s-sir."

Willow gave Tara a 'look' and when the blonde saw it she couldn't help but smile. "Sorry...Willow," she corrected herself.

They continued to stare at one another for a few moments, Tara's smile was frozen on her face and Willow's eyes were sparkling even in the dull light. Both held their breath and yet neither noticed the other doing so. Finally Willow excused herself. She walked backwards for a few steps so she could keep her eyes on Tara a little longer before turning to walk down the stairs.

As Tara watched Willow go she finally let out the breath that she had been holding and only then because she had been beginning to see spots. She kept watching Willow's back until even her red hair disappeared. Tara turned back to the ocean.

She was looking out at churning waves and grey clouds but that wasn't what she was really seeing. In her mind was a picture of a beautiful woman, a strong beautiful woman who was reaching out her arms to embrace her. Tara closed her eyes and imagined folding herself into her mother's arms, a simple comfort she had been missing terribly for the past fourteen years.

"I'm scared, Mama," she whispered aloud.

The words sounded strange coming from an ace fighter pilot and yet Tara had good reason to be scared. More than anyone else on the ship, she knew what had happened. Even more terrifyingly, she knew what was to come.


	6. Life Out in the Stars

**Chapter Six  
Life Out in the Stars  
**

Willow sat with her elbows resting on her knees in a casual pose as she watched the captains of the other squadrons file into the small briefing room. It was 0600 hours and absolutely fucking freezing. There was a steaming cup of black coffee clutched in her hands. She yawned widely and took a gulp of the scalding liquid. Her stomach rumbled as she did so, serving as a reminder that she needed food as well as coffee. Willow shifted uncomfortably. She had never been good at mornings.

Buffy walked in and sat on the opposite side of the room. She threw a quick, nondescript glance in Willow's direction. Eventually the others filed in. No one was particularly talkative. They all sat in nervous silence as they waited for Boone to take his place at the front of the room. When he finally marched in, he was the focus of every pair of eyes. His pace was brisk as he marched straight to the front of the room and spun crisply on his heels. There was determination on his face as well as anger - gone were all traces of sarcasm and cruel wit.

He was straight to the point, not wasting his words. "Overnight they attacked London, New York, Tokyo - all the world's major cities. They're in flames, ruins," he paused as though he were letting his words sink in, someone who didn't know him might think that he was struggling to get his words out. "Our forces tried to mount a gallant defence but could do very little in the face of such an aerial onslaught. There was very little warning. What military we have remaining has been forced to operate underground in an effort to avoid being wiped out altogether. Once we lose our capacity to defend ourselves, then they truly will have won."

Willow sat still as his words washed over her. London was in ruins. The coffee cup shook in her hand so violently that some of the hot liquid splashed over her hand. She took a long gulp, wishing it were something a little stronger.

"Civilians?" Willow asked Boone quietly.

"The casualty rate was…phenomenal. With the ferocity and speed of the strikes, a large proportion of the population of those cities was killed." As the words washed over her Willow saw something very much resembling sorrow on Boone's face but it was gone in a split second, causing her to think that she probably imagined it.

_Mum…Dad._ Willow thought as her gut twisted painfully. So many people must have died and yet they felt none of it in their little bubble.

"What are we dealing with, Commander?" Buffy asked in a small voice, one of the few in the room who was thinking clearly enough to ask a sensible question. "Co-ordinated attacks of this magnitude…no one on earth has the power to do that."

"That's because no one on earth did," Boone replied succinctly.

All around the room, eyes widened and jaws dropped to the floor. Seasoned pilots, career military men and women - they all went pale. Some pilots even looked as though they might faint. The same thoughts ran through their minds - an invading force from outer space. The only reference they had were the green space monsters like in comic books. They were supposed to be imaginary, and yet millions of people around the world were dead.

Despite her fear, Willow accepted Boone's announcement calmly. _Well that explains a lot, _she thought matter-of-factly_._ "Where are they? Can we kill them?" Willow surprised herself with the calm fury in her voice.

Her parents were foremost in her thoughts. They were just ordinary people. Her Dad owned a small hardware store and her mother was a primary school teacher. They were the most loving parents a girl could ask for. They had never done anything to anyone. Her Dad coached a boys football team and her Mum was the bastion of the local knitting circle.

"We don't know where they are, Rosenberg. Our reports say that they have come from the sky, possible even some sort of spaceship in Earth's atmosphere."

"Great, how are we supposed to get at them up there?" another captain asked throwing up his hands in exasperation.

"I'm not interested in what we can't do. Frankly, none of us should be. I do know that these fuckers can be blown out of the sky. Reports are that several were shot down by anti-aircraft batteries. They crashed and burnt just like any other piece of machinery."

"What about air-to-air?" someone gave voice to the exact question Willow was thinking.

"As of yet no squadron has engaged them." Boone sounded a little hesitant. "Enough speculation, we make North under cover of the net."

"What's north except lots of ice?" Willow asked, already shivering at the thought of being even colder than she was now.

"Salvation hopefully," Boone replied. "We have reports complied from communication with home, I want you all to read through them, study them. We don't know much about them but what we do I want you all to know it inside out. It could save your lives and those of your squadrons."

Willow took the stack of typed pages that Boone handed her and flicked through them to find verbal descriptions of what had happened.

"Everyone is on full stand-by, that means flight kit and tin hats carried with you at all times…no exceptions. That's all, dismissed."

Willow gathered her things and stood, overhearing another pilot ask why they needed to carry their helmets if no one could get through the net. Willow remembered Boone saying it had been tested with a full naval bombardment. She knew full well that they were worried it would stand up to whatever it was that these…space invaders were going to shoot at it. Willow sighed as she walked out into the corridor to make her way to the hanger and her adjoining office.

_There really is life out there in the stars…how fascinating. All I want to do is kill it._

* * *

Willow entered her office which was really just a small cubby hole adjoining the hanger. However there was a chair and a desk, as well as a door to block out the usual bustle of the hanger. She left it open now, welcoming the sounds of mechanics working on the planes because it was familiar…comforting in a way. The smell of grease and aviation fuel filled her nostrils. It was the aroma of her life.

She reached into the top drawer of her desk, feeling beneath the untidy stack of papers and the assorted chocolate bars she had stashed there to find what she was searching for. It was there at the bottom and she pulled it out. A small stack of pictures held together with a piece of string. She pulled it off and went through them one by one. They were family photos - some old and tattered from when she was just a small child.

There was one of her as a very small girl. Her hair was done up in bows and her parents arms encircled her, holding her close. Her father was wearing his army uniform. He had been a clerk at army headquarters during World War One. A heart condition had prevented him from being sent to the trenches where so many had died in the mud.

She looked at another one of her as a six year old. She was sitting in the cockpit of a plane that had seen service in World War One. A much too large leather helmet was perched on her head and a huge grin was on her face. Willow remembered it well. It had been her first plane flight sitting on the lap of the pilot. He had even let her hold the stick in her small hands. It had been the first day of the rest of her life.

Another one had been taken at Hanukah. Willow guessed that she was about thirteen. She smiled sadly when she saw the overly frilly dress she was wearing. Her mother had made her that dress, as she had made most of her clothes when she was younger. All her clothes had been so lovingly made with careful stitching, her name tag sewn into every item because she was forever losing her clothes at school.

There was a photo of her graduation from Air Academy. It was her and Buffy, both in their brand new Air Command uniforms smiling proudly. Surrounding them were her parents, Mrs Summers and Dawn standing between Buffy and Willow. Willow pressed a light finger to the face of the girl smiling brightly with her big sisters cap perched on her head. She felt an unwelcome stinging sensation in her eyes and quickly moved that photo to the back of the pile.

The next one was of the Devils, taken about two years earlier. All the same faces of the current squadron members stared back at her except one. Instead of Dennis's young face there was another man, he seemed barely older than Dennis. Captain Theodore Thompson's smooth, smiling face stared back at her from beneath a mop of tousled jet black hair. One arm was casually thrown over Willow's shoulders.

_Teddy. _Willow sighed as she moved that photo to the back of the pile as well. I_f there ever was a guy for me, it would have been you without a doubt._

The last photo had been taken just last month, her twenty-third birthday. The black and white picture showed the grey at her father's temples but also the same dazzling white smile she remembered from childhood. Her mother held up the cake she had made in the shape of a red plane. Twenty three candles made it look more like a hedgehog. She was standing behind her parents, an arm on each of their shoulders.

"Willow?"

Willow quickly shoved the photos back in the drawer, slamming it shut before she turned in her seat. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw Tara peering at her from around the door frame.

"I'm not interrupting or anything am I?" she asked hesitantly.

"Ah no…just doing my homework," Willow held up the stack of papers Boone had given each of the squadron captains. "Can I help you with something?"

"N-no…I was just p-passing by your office and I saw…like I said, if I was interrupting I'll make myself scarce."

"No, no, don't be silly. I'd offer you a chair but…" Willow glanced around at the tiny office.

"It's fine, I'm fine standing." Tara always found it far easier to make a quick exit when you were standing in the doorway rather than trapped in a chair.

"Has Buffy filled you in yet?" Willow pointed to the papers, really she just wanted to find a reason for Tara to stay an talk.

Tara shook her head. "I've heard rumours from the sailors, although most of them sound ridiculous. Something about little green men in spaceships…Martians. Although I'm almost tempted to believe them."

"It's probably not too far from the truth," Willow replied. "Can you close the door? I don't know if this stuff is for general consumption yet. It might send the crew into a panic."

Tara closed the door behind her. All of a sudden it seemed as though she was practically sitting in Willow's lap they were so close. Her heart beat out of control.

Willow on the other hand was taking her mind off Tara's close proximity by imagining little green men plummeting to a fiery death after she had shot down their flying machine. "Little green fuckers!"

"Are you alright, s-s…" Tara stopped herself just before she let the word 'sir' leave her lips. "Willow?"

Willow could at first only reply with a shake of her head as Tara's empathic blue gaze stared at her, almost as though she were looking into her mind, her soul. Rather than feeling invaded, Willow felt safe and reassured.

"Boone just told us that London was destroyed. My parents live…lived in London. God I hate this, not knowing whether they're dead or not and not knowing exactly what it was that killed them. I should've been there with them and instead I'm stuck floating somewhere in the Atlantic. I'm freezing bloody cold while the world is being torn to pieces around me. Why aren't we doing something? I need to do something…anything to feel as though I'm at least trying." Willow put her head on the desk, squeezing her eyes shut tightly.

Tara watched the wave of emotions play across Willow's features as she had spoken. To Tara, the red head was much like an open book. Every feeling and reaction was displayed on her features for Tara to see clearly. And yet she still couldn't figure her out. She saw and heard the pain as she spoke in clipped tones about her parents and her frustration. Tara cleared her throat quietly.

"My mother died when I was nine." Tara didn't want to tell Willow. She didn't need or want sympathy from the Captain and yet for some reason it was the right time. "She was an archaeologist working on a dig site in Egypt. There was some kind of…accident and she died. She and I were…very, very close. It hurt like hell when she died."

"I'm sorry," Willow mumbled.

"No…you don't have to be. I was just telling you because, well…I don't know really. Perhaps I might be able to help you with some of what you're feeling right now. It's not good to bottle it up because then it just comes out at the worst time."

Willow sat back up straight. "Look Tara I really appreciate you trying to help but I don't need it okay, I'm f-f…" Willow's voice broke and she pressed her fist to her mouth.

Willow felt like crying and yet she wouldn't. She hadn't cried since Dawn's death. After that she had refused to cry for herself again. She wasn't worth shedding tears over. She heard Tara's soft footsteps on the floor, moving towards her. She sat up to find Tara right by her side and she held her breath. She was so close she could smell the fragrant scent that was Tara. The scent was fresh, like an unnamed flower. Soothing - like a cool breeze on a stifling hot day. Willow felt her insides melt when Tara reached out both arms and placed them around her shoulders in a tight, warm hug.

Tara's cheek was pressed against hers. For the first time, Willow felt the smooth skin that she had been longing to touch. Ever since the first day she had lain eyes on the beautiful, unknown blonde standing on the Odysseus' flight deck.

Tara's heart was beating all too rapidly in her chest. It was an insistent and steady thump. _It's just comfort…that's all. She is so alone, she needs someone to be there for her. You've nominated yourself, Maclay? Are you sure you're qualified? _As Tara felt goose bumps rise over her skin and the shivers that ran through her body she knew that she wasn't up to it at all. She couldn't trust herself with Willow because she knew what she wanted more than friendship.

Suddenly, Tara found that Willow's head had moved so that the corners of their lips were touching lightly. She felt Willow's breath, it was so close. Then her lips moved a fraction. It was just the tiniest of movements - a light stroking of her lips and yet it was so very much more.

With one taste of Tara's lips, Willow felt herself grow faint. They were moist, soft and tasted like nothing she ever had before. Hungrily, she searched and found the rest of those lips. She claimed them with a sigh. She caressed Tara's full mouth with her own. Still the contact was soft and hesitant on both their parts.

Willow's hand snaked up around the back of Tara's neck, running up through her gloriously soft hair and drawing her down with a firm tug. For a few seconds their kiss became insistent, bruising and passionate. In those seconds their hot breaths mingled to become one. Willow's tongue flicked softly against Tara's lips, searching for something more.

In a flash, the wonderful haven that was Tara's lips and the weight of her warm body were both gone. Willow opened her eyes in surprise to find Tara looking at her with a wide-eyed, frightened look on her face. She reached up with both shaking hands to smooth her hair back from her brow. She took a few furtive steps backwards towards the door and away from Willow. As Tara walked backwards Willow lent forward in her chair, a questioning look on her face.

"Tara?"

"W-what…what are we d-doing?" Tara asked, her back was now pressed up against the door, her hand on the door handle.

Willow stood slowly, not wanting to alarm the blonde further and yet wondering what on earth had just happened between them. "What's wrong?"

"I-I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, sir," Tara said with emphasis on the last word.

"Gave me the wrong idea? Tara, what-"

"I don't want…I mean, I can't. I'm sorry, sir, I can't do this."

Tara flung open the door and ran out the door without a glance back at a distraught Willow. Willow slumped back into the chair behind her, shoulders sagging. She hit her forehead with the palm of her hand.

"Stupid…stupid…stupid!" she spat angrily. _Fucking hell, Rosenberg. She was just trying to help you and you turn on her like some horny…guy!_

Willow rocked back on the hind legs of her chair as she debated whether or not to run after Tara. Suddenly someone came running and slid to a halt in her doorway. Willow gasped and fell backwards in her chair. She looked up to see Tad peering down at her, an amused look on his face. Willow just stared at him blankly, making no move to get up. He very quickly wiped the grin from his face,

"Willow…um, Captain Rosenberg sir, Boone needs a squadron for recon. Do you think the Devils would be up for it?"

_Recon? While there are bad guys out there that want to wipe everyone off the face of the planet? _"Sure," Willow replied. "Sounds like fun."

* * *

The Net parted just wide enough for each of the Devils to filter out. Willow watched as she passed through the layer of pink cotton candy that kept them safe. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she flew right into it. _Silly thought really._

Once outside the Net, the Devils formed up in a tight, combat formation. All eyes scanned the sky warily, watching for any sign of black shapes hurtling towards them. They broke through the thin cloud cover, emerging into bright sunlight.

Willow squinted and tugged her goggles down over her eyes. As she scanned the sky from the head of the formation she felt far freer than she had at any time during the past few days. Almost as though the net had created a stifling atmosphere within its confines…ridiculous of course, it did no such thing and yet Willow felt it for some reason.

The rest of the Devils were uncharacteristically quiet as they flew. Usually the comm. was over loaded with excited and pointless chatter. The quiet was eerie, too eerie for Willow's liking and she found herself wishing that someone would break the tension.

"You guys still with me?" she asked just to check although she knew full well if she looked out to her left and right she would see their Drakens close by.

A chorus of 'yessirs' came back very promptly and Willow was really worried. Her Devils never called her sir - except Dennis.

"What's up with you guys?" Willow asked.

"Well Will, these LGFs might pick up on out radio frequency and hone it on it," Alex replied, almost in a whisper. He had coined an abbreviation of Willow's term for the invaders. Little Green Fuckers had become LGFs.

"If they wanted to find us they'd find us," Willow replied testily, she did want to find them!

"Okay, a fifty mile radial circuit of the fleet and then back, those are our orders, radio silence unless you see something."

The flight settled into a peaceful joyride in the bright sunlight with occasional glimpses of the sea through the clouds beneath them. Willow almost forgot they had been invaded, it was so quiet and uneventful.

_Where are you dammit?_

* * *

Yet as their circuit was almost completed a few hours later, Willow knew they were not going to show up just because she wanted to have a go at trying to blow them out of the sky. Willow pulled off one of her gloves, wincing at the cold as she wiped her sweaty brow with her just as sweaty palm.

All the Drakens landed unscathed back on the Odysseus after their nerve racking, silent flight. Each one relieved not to have run into trouble…all save Willow who was majorly pissed off. Once landed, the other pilots started their joking amongst themselves. Willow almost yelled at them in exasperation as their blasé comments about what they would have done if they had run into any LGFs annoyed her. They would have been scared shitless, all of them.

Willow wasn't scared. She was disappointed and angry. She needed to go somewhere alone and hit something.

Willow practically ran down the stairs to the hanger, she pushed her way through the planes, the mechanics bustling around and to her office where she slammed the door. She fell to her knees and sat there staring into nothing. She clenched her fists to stop her hands shaking. The world was being invaded by a strange force that had succeeded in wiping out a large portion of the earth's defences in a matter of days and now they were being shy. Willow yanked off her flying gloves and threw them at the wall where they hit with a dull thud.

She knew she should be worried about the way she was feeling. Her desire to meet the enemy in combat was frightening. Willow had listened eagerly to veterans of World War One as they regaled younger pilots with tales of their flying battles over Europe. They spoke of the adrenalin overcoming their fear, the intense excitement of aerial combat where it was kill or be killed. She was flying with death at every turn.

_Is that it…I want to die?_ Willow knew the thought should scare her and yet she really did not care any longer. _Everyone else I love is dead…so why the hell not me?_

An unbidden memory surfaced in Willow's mind as she knelt on the cold floor

_Music filled her ears, a rousing chorus of a song she barely knew and yet she still sung along anyway. A large amount of alcohol always tended to fool her into thinking that her singing had somehow magically improved. Someone's arm lay across her shoulders, it belonged to a laughing and equally drunk blonde. The two of them started an awkward Irish jig much to the amusement of other pilots surrounding them. Predictably it ended when the pair of them got carried away and suddenly found themselves on their backs in a tangle of limbs, laughing until their guts ached. Impulsively Willow lent over and kissed her friend on the cheek._

"_I love you Buff." Although drunk her words were sincere. _

"_Will, you know I love you."_

_Willow playfully batted her eyelashes and Buffy giggled, pushing her away with a gentle shove. _

"…_but if you ask me to have sex with you the answer is the same as its always been, no."_

"_I've never asked you!" Willow replied indignantly. "Thought admit it, you find me undeniably attractive and sexy."_

"_I find you many things Will but foremost amongst them all is definitely sexy," Buffy grinned. "Come on, my glass is all the way empty…more liquid refreshment required."_

"_You think if I get you a little drunker I can have my wicked way with you?" Willow helped Buffy to her feet, the blonde stumbled forward into her arms. _

"_In your dreams Rosenberg…now which way is the bar? You'll have to help me there because I think my feet are broken."_

Willow almost smiled at the memory. There had been many more like it involving way too much alcohol…or the ones where they had simply let the little devils within themselves run loose, festooning a visiting General's jeep with toilet paper and fake shit or trailing the laundry of one unfortunate fellow recruit from the tail of a plane as they flew over the base.

_I love Buffy, I always will god help me._

Images of another blonde filled her mind, this time with haunting blue eyes, a pale face…The ability to turn her knees to jelly and send her hormones into overdrive…

_Tara…I don't know whether to love her or hate her._ Willow sighed, the only thing she did know was that everything had felt right when their lips had been pressed together. The thought of dying and never seeing Tara again was the worst one she could imagine.

_I'll live for her…whether she wants me or not, I'll live for her._


	7. The Phoney War

**Chapter Seven  
The Phoney War**

The last rays of sunlight had retreated from the surface of the ocean almost an hour earlier. A freezing chill had crept in and taken hold of the ship. As Willow stood out in the chilly air, her breath misted white in front of her. She was grateful that at least there was no wind. The ocean's surface was as calm as the mill ponds she remembered from family trips to the countryside. So eerily calm. Willow looked absently at the pack of cigarettes she had filched from Spike. She tossed the packet in the air a few times, catching it deftly. Eventually she tapped the packet on the rail in front of her, shaking one free. She popped it in her mouth before she realised that she had neglected to find a box of matches. She lent back against the gun emplacement behind her, feeling somewhat foolish with an unlit cigarette poking from between her lips.

_No flame…story of my life. _Willow let out a small sigh that was lost in the darkness as she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets.

Footsteps sounding on the metal gangway to her right normally would have startled her. Tonight she couldn't even be bothered looking to see who was intruding on her solitude. She just hoped whoever it was would go away quietly. There was the sound of a match being struck followed by someone holding up the small flame for her to light her cigarette. Willow puffed a few times, wrinkling her nose as the acrid smoke wafted up and met her offended nostrils.

"Thanks," Willow mumbled, finding the way the cigarette paper burnt in the darkness fascinating for some strange reason.

"I didn't think you indulged in such a bad habit," Willow instantly recognised Tad's voice and she turned to see the XO lighting a cigarette of his own.

"Usually I don't…but I figured I'm doing just about everything else I can to put myself in an early grave, so why the hell not."

"Bad day?" Tad guessed

Willow merely shrugged in response. She wasn't interested in a conversation. Tad however wasn't to be deterred. He was going to start one anyway - even if it meant an acerbic response from Willow.

He decided to try another approach. Clearly there was something he needed to get off his chest. "Look, Captain Rosenberg, I'm sorry for the way I was acting before…when you first came aboard."

"Huh? Oh, you mean lusting after me? Don't worry, I get it all the time," Willow said in a matter-of-fact voice. She waved the smoke away from her face irritably. "Though usually once the guy finds out that I'm a lesbian he redoubles his efforts...so thanks."

"No problem," Tad replied, he flashed a quick grin. "Although I have to admit…it was a little difficult. There has definitely been pining."

"Tell me about it," Willow replied throwing her spent cigarette overboard. She withdrew another from the packet and Tad chucked her the entire box of matches seeing as she obviously needed them more than he did.

"Care to elaborate on that, Captain?" Tad asked, his curiosity outweighing his desire not to be thrown overboard by the feisty red head.

"No," Willow replied as the flame of the match threw a golden glow over her face for a few seconds.

_God she's beautiful,_ Tad thought watching her. _If only she was not so…sad all the time._

Willow sighed as she looked at Tad's earnest face. He was a nice enough young man. She almost trusted him enough to believe that he would not spread gossip about her. _What have I got to lose besides my dignity? Not that I really have any of that left._

Tad watched her face closely and saw the slight flicker of a change in resolution. He dared to press one more time,

"I've been told I have a very sympathetic ear."

"Have you also been told you're very aggravating?" Willow replied, although there was no malice in her tone.

"Many times," Tad said promptly.

"It's just that…feelings have absolutely no sense of timing. We're in the middle of a war covering the entire world and I have the hots for a blonde." _But what a blonde!_

That was the thing wasn't it? The Willow who took her professional responsibilities seriously was worried that her infatuation with Tara would led to neglecting her duties to her squadron. The last thing she wanted to do was to get any of them killed. Yet people managed to carry on relationships during war time - they always had. Willow thought that perhaps she was searching for an excuse to cover up her fear. The very simple thought that Tara was not interested in her.

"Ah, so all this brooding, the smoking…it's about a girl. I should have seen the signs," Tad shook his head at his blindness. "You know what I kept telling myself as I was working up the courage to talk to this one girl I had the hots for? There's no time like the present, Tad. War or no war, if you want the girl, go get her. How can it be more complicated than that?"

"Oh it's complicated…complicated in the fact that I think she hates me." Willow was confused and she hated it. "And as I recall…your advice didn't work out all that well for you. Didn't the girl brush you off very rudely?"

Tad smiled. "She was just honest…which is why I don't understand why she isn't being honest with herself. And my advice to myself did work. I got my answer, I know where I stand with her now."

"Well, I can't fathom Maclay out for the life of me-" Willow stopped, realising she'd let the cat out of the bag. She scowled at Tad, jabbing her finger into his chest. "If you breathe a word of this to anyone."

Tad held up both hands to placate her and Willow withdrew her finger. She threw yet another cigarette butt overboard and realised as she reached for another that she was definitely getting the hang of it.

"Maclay…Flight Officer Tara Maclay, Slayer squadron?" Tad asked raising his eyebrows.

Willow responded with a barely perceptible nod. In response, Tad let out a low whistle. Willow predictably sent him a glare that would melt butter.

"Well, I can see the difficulty there. Slayers don't hold well with Devils do they?"

"That's an understatement," Willow replied bitterly, she was beginning to think that her feud with Buffy was going to dodge her for the rest of her life. _I'd give an arm and a leg to know what Buffy has told her about me…except that whatever it is, it's probably true and I deserve everything I get._

"Do you know how she feels about you…I mean, does she even like women? If she's not I might have more chance with her that you ever will." Tad winced. "Sorry, sorry, very tactless."

Willow raised her eyebrows before shaking her head slowly. "I don't know…I don't know the answer to either of those questions. We kissed earlier today…I mean I kissed…no, she kissed-" Willow sighed. "I don't know who kissed who."

"But hoorah anyway!" Tad said excitedly, he pried for more details. "And?"

"And what? She ran away after we'd barely touched lips, I don't know why," Willow muttered dejectedly. "I'm not that bad at kissing."

"Well…we can establish that she's probably attracted to you. That's a start at least. Do you love her?"

"What?" Willow's eyes widened and she turned to face him. Tad was looking at her as though it were the most natural question he could ask in the situation. It had however caught Willow very much off guard. "No…it's got absolutely nothing to do with love." There's a fucking war on, I don't want to fall in love. I just want a warm body to curl up to in my bunk."

"Right," Tad said with a wink in his voice.

Willow ignored the sarcasm in his voice. "Damned bad timing, I should just forget about it."

"Horseshit!" Tad burst out, not wanting to see Willow run herself into the ground. "Stop holding all these flimsy excuses around you like a blanket. What have you got to lose?"

"Well…" Willow pursed her lips. _My dignity is already gone, respect…who the hell cares, and my sanity…definitely long gone. _"Nothing I guess."

Tad nodded in a self-satisfied manner, folding his arms across his chest as though he would take full responsibility for how things turned out between the Captain and the lovely Officer Maclay. He had a good mind to give the redhead a few pointers as to how to win her over,

"Flowers…girls like flowers…and chocolate," he said as though he were revealing the world's best kept secrets and had completely forgotten that Willow was a girl herself.

"Where am I going to get flowers, Dempster?" Willow asked with an arched eyebrow. "Or anything other than a bog standard bar of Cadbury's?"

"Oh…v-very good point," Tad replied sheepishly. "There's always poetry and singing."

"I want to win her over, not send her overboard," Willow shuddered at the thought of her writing poetry. "Besides, I've courted girls before."

Willow looked at her worn wrist watch. It was getting late and yet the last thing she wanted to do was return to the cabin she shared with Tara. Tad started to open his mouth and Willow grimaced slightly at what he might say next. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate his efforts, Tad just wasn't very good at giving advice.

"Captain-" Tad began.

"Dempster, if you call me Captain Rosenberg one more time I'm going to start a rumour that we slept together." Willow waved her finger threateningly at the young man.

"Well…that wouldn't be so bad-" Tad started with a grin.

"And that you were the worst shag I've ever had," Willow finished, poking his chest with her finger.

Tad provided the desired reaction quite nicely. He immediately paled and nodded quickly at the red head who was staring him down with the most serious expression on her face. She meant every word. Tad didn't want to blow his chances with the rest of the Odysseus' complement of female crew.

"You guys are all alike. All you think about all day, everyday is sex."

"I do not!" Tad stated emphatically. "I'll have you know that I have been known to go without thinking about sex for up to half an hour."

"Would those half hour records be in the presence of everyone's favourite Commander?" Willow asked. Boone was horrid enough to tarnish anyone's libido.

"Honestly, yes. I'm much too busy worrying whether or not he's going to rip my balls off and throw them overboard. There's a rumour that he did that you know, when he caught a sailor taking a leak over the side of his ship." Tad grimaced.

"An overactive rumour mill I'm sure," Willow replied although even she wouldn't put it past Boone to do something that extreme.

"How long do you go without thinking about sex?" Tad threw her own question back at her.

"At the moment…oh about five minutes." Willow let out an exasperated groan.

"Damn the blonde!" Tad said in a jovial voice, swinging his fist for added emphasis.

"I was actually thinking more along the lines of 'screw the blonde'," Willow replied in a more sombre tone.

"In which sense?"

"Both," Willow let out a wide yawn straight after the word had left her mouth. _Which is the exact reason why she's driving me crazy and she doesn't even know it. I goddamn hope she doesn't know it because if she's doing this on purpose…there'll be hell to pay! Not to mention I'll feel like an even bigger idiot than I do now._

Tad watched as Willow kept on yawning. "Sooo….what shall I call you?"

Willow remembered the point of her conversation before they had become sidetracked, "Just Rosenberg…or Will if you prefer, that's what my friends call me," Willow watched a smile creep onto the young man's features when she mentioned the word friend. Well, she was being nothing but honest. Tad was a good chap and she unashamedly liked him.

Tad looked at his own wrist watch and saw it was going past midnight. He frowned at the young woman standing next to him who had just thrown the stub of her fourth cigarette over the railing. The dark circles beneath her eyes were pronounced and her skin seemed a little translucent in the weak light on deck. They were all going to need as much solid rest as they could get and Willow looked as though she hadn't slept soundly for days.

"My shift doesn't finish until 0600. Why don't you take some rest in my cabin seeing as how you are too much of a chicken to go and talk to your girl."

"Call her that again, Dempster and I'm taking back the whole bit about us being friends…but thank you, I really am beat."

"And stop smoking would you! If you two ever do manage to sort your shit out, hopefully before the end of the world, do you really think that Tara will want to bury her tongue in an ashtray?"

"Oh." Willow looked at the cigarette she had been about to light.

Tad took it from her hands and broke it in half. He then held out his hand, wriggling his fingers impatiently. Willow quickly deposited the packet of cigarettes and the box of matches in his palm.

* * *

The next morning, the hanger was a veritable hive of activity. Welding sparks showered down as mechanics worked on planes. It was imperative that they were all in perfect condition. At the back of everyone's minds – pilots, fitters, mechanics and sailors – was that their best might not be good enough. Faith was lying on the wing of her plane, an open tool box beside her. Her hands were covered in grease.

"Coffee?" Faith looked up when she heard Tara's soft voice.

The blonde was standing on the floor, holding a steaming cup of black coffee out for the other pilot. Faith smiled, reaching out a greasy hand for the cup. She propped herself up on her elbows as she took a gulp of the burning liquid.

"Thanks, T." Faith wiped one of her hands on her overalls.

"No problem. Hey, Faith, can I ask you something?" Tara ventured quietly.

"Sure, fire away."

"Why is Buffy so antagonistic towards, Captain Rosenberg? I mean, I get that they don't like each other…that much is obvious. But the way Buffy talks about her you'd think she was the queen of hell or something. I-I heard they were friends once?"

"Red and B? Yeah, once upon a time they were inseparable! I mean you couldn't separate them. It was definitely a two for the price of one package." Faith took a sip of her coffee before setting it down on the wing and turning back to the cannon mechanism.

Tara propped up her elbows on the wing, leaning on it and pursing her lips thoughtfully. "They were l-lovers?" _Please don't say yes._

Faith laughed. "Hell no! As far as I know Red's always been a ladies gal but B never swung that way. They were just really good friends, no, more than that…more like family."

Tara breathed a sigh of relief she hoped Faith couldn't hear. However, judging from the interested glance that Faith threw her way she thought she might have failed. She ducked her head, trying to work up the courage to ask the next question that was on her mind. It was stupid really, what did it matter.

"I don't know if you know or if Buffy ever told you…but was she ever seeing someone?" Tara asked in a small voice.

Faith shrugged nonchalantly. "How the hell should I know. You know as well as I do that we've never had much to do with the English branch of Air Command."

"I-I just thought-"

Faith grinned and leant a little closer to Tara. "Well, I'm not one to gossip but scuttlebutt has it that she and the previous Captain of the Devils were shagging."

"Previous captain?"

"Yeah, Theodore Thompson. I met him a few times – very handsome guy. He was killed a few months ago in a training accident. Don't ask me what happened exactly but apparently it had something to with a stunt gone wrong . Anyway, Rosenberg was promoted to replace him." Faith waved her hand dismissively. "I think the rumours that they were bumping pelvis' are a load of horse piss. Willow is a lesbian, always has been and always will be. The guys fall for her like flies though. Damn her innocent sweetness and cute ass. I'm just guessing but that was probably what happened with her and Captain Thompson. From what I hear, he mooned after our little redhead like a love sick puppy."

_He isn't going to be the last to moon over her,_ Tara thought miserably.

"Maclay…you aren't falling for Rosenberg are you?" a voice said from behind Tara.

Faith and Tara looked in surprise to see that Buffy had joined them. The blonde stood in front of the Gullstrike, her hands on her hips as she looked at Tara. One eyebrow was arched upwards as she waited for an answer.

"N-no," Tara stammered, trying to keep Buffy's gaze.

Faith's eyes lit up as she finally realised why Tara was so interested in finding out about Willow. "You are!" Faith sat back on her haunches and clapped her hands together delightedly like a child with a new toy. "You wanna fuck her! I don't really blame you though…that is a nice piece of ass!"

Tara felt her cheeks burn as Faith licked her lips. "I do not want to…sleep with her!" _Do I_?

"You wanna!" Faith said again. "You wanna feel that firm, lithe body naked beneath yours, her hips bucking and grinding against your fingers…the both of you all hot and sweaty as she moans your name."

"I don't," Tara whispered, suddenly feeling hot all over, her cheeks flaming.

Faith saw Tara's reaction and she grinned. She leapt down from her perch on the wing and pulled the blonde into a headlock. With a gleeful grin, she knuckled the top of her head. Their struggles knocked Faith's cup of coffee to the floor below. The tin mug clattered, spilling its hot contents all over Buffy's boots.

Incensed, Buffy reached up and grabbed Faith by the scruff of her neck to pull her away from Tara. "Faith, shut the hell up. Maclay, you'll stay the hell away from Rosenberg if you know what's good for you. You'll can't handle her so don't even try."

And with that brutal order, Buffy stormed away. Her heavy footfalls echoed firmly on the floor as she did so. Faith and Tara watched her go until she disappeared down the stairs to the living area. Tara had never seen Buffy so angry over something so mundane. She looked inquiringly to Faith,

"What was that about?"

Faith sighed. "B thinks that Red was responsible for her sister's death."

"I heard rumours about that…but I'm not so sure I believed them." Tara searched her memory to remember the snatches of conversation she had overheard and very nearly dismissed altogether. She had never been one to gossip, no matter how interested she was in the subject. "Let me see if I've got this straight - a few years ago Captain Rosenberg took Buffy's little sister for a joyride, the engine stalled as she was bringing the plane into land when the plane mysteriously flipped."

Faith nodded. "That's about all I know as well. And I wouldn't ask B if I were you. You do not even want to go there!"

"It doesn't sound as though it was her fault," Tara said quietly._ Poor Willow…what she must have felt…the baggage she has to carry with her._ First Buffy's little sister, whom Tara had a feeling was like a sister to Willow as well, then Captain Thompson and now for all probability her parents. Tara felt sick with sorrow.

"Try telling that to B. There's a hell of a lot of animosity between those two. You're probably best not to come between them. Besides, I quite like you and I don't want to see you get caught up in all of this shit. B's right, you'll just get hurt."

Tara nodded and Faith went back to work on her aircraft's cannons. She had taken in what Buffy and Faith had said and they both made sense. However, when it came to Captain Rosenberg, Tara found all her good sense flying right out of the porthole. The blonde sighed, it wasn't as though she hadn't been hurt in her life before. What was one more hurt to add to the notches on her belt already?

She thought back to earlier the previous day, in the moments just before they had kissed. Tara remembered how she had scorned at the thought of nominating herself to take care of Willow.

Now she did not think there was anything that would stop her from trying.


	8. The Mother of all Assumptions

**Chapter Eight  
The Mother of all Assumptions**

It was that goddamned dream again - waking without really being awake. Willow didn't realise at first of course, she never did. Mornings had never been her speciality which was why when she opened her eyes to find herself in the cabin she shared with Tara she thought nothing of it. She just yawned and snuggled back into the soft pillow, begging herself for just a few more minutes of sack time.

As she dozed in a contented haze Willow finally started to realise that things were far from ordinary. For one thing, she was warm. Usually it seemed that no matter how many pairs of socks she pulled on, her feet were permanently cold - along with the rest of her. Each morning Willow rose very early and quickly for that reason. There was no point in staying in bed freezing when you could be up and working - still freezing but at least being productive.

Willow was so very warm that she found a smile creeping across her face. She burrowed until she found the source of the warmth. This wasn't difficult in the narrow bunk where there was barely enough space for her own small body. Someone else was pressed against the length of her back, fitting perfectly to the contours of her body. The arm that was snug around her waist felt both reassuring and familiar. It triggered something in her mind but she struggled for several minutes to find exactly what was wrong with the extremely pleasant situation.

_Wait a minute!_

Willow realised that just the fact of being in her own cabin was wrong. With her awkward relationship with Tara causing her no shortage of odd thoughts and strange behaviour, for the second night in a row she had fallen asleep in Dempster's cabin. Had she walked in her sleep? The body behind her shifted. Whoever it was moved even closer and radiated such a pleasant warmth that Willow felt she could easily drift back into a state of contented slumber. It felt almost as though their skin were joined despite the fact that there were many layers of clothing between them. She was about to drift off again when she suddenly realised that all of this was far too good to be true. Something about it was eerily familiar. She remembered a time when she had woken before from such a dream with an unspoken name on her lips. Willow's eyes widened when she had a revelation of the name that had been on her lips as she woke.

Willow twisted her body. She rolled over in the tight space until she found herself face to face with the woman who haunted both her waking hours and her dreams.

"Tara."

She found herself face to face with the gorgeous blonde pilot. Tara's eyes opened when she heard Willow say her name. Her hazy blue eyes stared dreamily into Willow's. Just for a moment, Willow could have sworn she saw a flicker of surprise pass across Tara's features. It was gone before Willow could even wonder about it, replaced by a small smile that made her eyes dance.

Tara reached up to stroke Willow's cheek with her hand. Her fingers were cold but Willow didn't care, the touch was still electric. Willow let out a breath. Everything was wrong. She was in her own cabin, in the arms of a woman she could not even summon the courage to talk to let alone crawl into a very narrow bed next to and she was so warm. It wasn't right, and yet as she gazed into Tara's blue eyes she was sure that nothing could be wrong with it.

"Good morning," Tara whispered. Her soft voice still clogged with sleep.

"Good morning yourself," Willow replied subconsciously, still lost in those strange blue eyes. "Why did that sound so good?"

"Well, I can say it again if you like," Tara said with a broad smile, she reached her hand around to the back of Willow's neck in a light caress. Her cold fingers caused Willow to shiver delightfully. "But I'd rather do this-"

Tara pulled Willow towards her with a firm hand, searching out Willow's lips with her own. For a moment Willow's eyebrows raised in shock at the unaccustomed contact. She panicked, wanting to pull away. However it didn't take long for the warmth of Tara's lips to relax her completely. Tara's tongue flicked against Willow's teeth, seeking invitation. A little nervously, Willow parted her lips. A shiver ran down her spine as she took Tara's moist tongue into her mouth. It met her own in a tender, languorous waltz. Willow heard a groan of pleasure leak from her own mouth. This was definitely how every day should begin - even in the middle of a war.

_Dammit, I'm dreaming,_ Willow thought with a pang of disappointment just as she was beginning to lose everything in their kiss. _Just a little while longer…then I'll try and wake up…mmmmm, Tara-tongue…just how I always dreamt it would be._

Everything was brutally interrupted by a deafening explosion. Willow tore herself from Tara's kiss and sat upright as the whole ship shuddered violently beneath them. Her hand shot out for Tara's at the same moment Tara's hand searched for hers. Theirs fingers entwined in a white knuckled grip, calming Willow's racing heart beat. Another rumble, this time followed by the sound of tearing metal and violent explosions. Willow was about to pull them both from the bed when Tara's head suddenly snapped back. Her eyes stared upwards, seemingly at nothing. For a moment her face was serene, her lips parted in silent wonder.

Willow watched transfixed and forgot that the ship was probably being torn to pieces around them. Tara's lips moved, mouthing a word that looked to be 'mama' and yet Willow couldn't say for sure. Gradually Tara's features contorted into a mask of pain and grief. Her mouth was opened as though she was screaming, and yet no sound emerged.

"Tara?" Willow asked, squeezing the hand she held as hard as she could.

As though in slow motion, Tara lowered her gaze to bring her into contact with Willow's once more. Her face was a chalky white, her expression unreadable. The hand Willow held went totally limp.

"Tara?"

"They're here," Tara said in a quiet monotone.

Willow was just about to ask who Tara meant when the sound of an immense explosion was followed by the bulkhead exploding inwards. Willow was once again knocked to the floor, she heard Tara scream her name in fear. Metal twisted as though it was mere paper. The last thing Willow saw was a huge panel falling towards her.

When she struggled back to consciousness, she found herself pinned beneath the panel. She struggled to get out a breath as it pressed down on her chest. Smoke filled the air, rendering it doubly difficult to breath. With both hands, she tried to force the metal that had her trapped upwards so that she could move. However, as soon as she tried to exert any force excruciating pain shot up her leg and she cried out. Willow could see her foot extruding from the bottom of the panel. It was pointed at an impossible angle.

"Tara?" Willow's voice sounded so distant, even to herself.

The smoke parted and Willow saw Tara staring right at her. However, the blue eyes were glazed over…and Willow realised that they were not seeing anything, they were lifeless. A piece of metal bracing that had been blown inwards now protruding sickeningly from her chest. Willow wanted to vomit but even that was beyond her, the horrible taste just sat in her mouth.

Even in death, Tara's hand was reaching out towards Willow. Willow reached for her fingers but they were too far away.

"Tara…please," she whispered. "Tara, no!"

* * *

"Tara!"

Willow woke, this time for real.

She found herself where she had left the waking world the night before, in Dempster's cabin. The blankets and the pillow lay on the floor where they had obviously been thrown in the night by her thrashing limbs. Freezing cold, she lay shivering on the mattress in sweat soaked pyjamas.

Willow swung her sock covered feet to the floor and sat up. Her head swam a little and she rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers. That damned dream was seriously beginning to mess with her mind. The dream...and the blonde pilot.

_Tara._

* * *

"Willow!" Tara sat bolt upright in bed.

Well, she almost sat bolt upright in bed. In her post-dream haze she forgot that the ceiling was much to low to sit up fully and she thumped her forehead painfully on the metal. Clutching her forehead with her hand she gritted her teeth.

The same dream again. The same one she had been having every night for the past month - even before she had met Willow. At first the girl she had been holding in her sleep had remained nameless. Never faceless though. The face of the pale, green-eyed woman with the bright red hair had never left her thoughts. The first time she had seen Captain Willow Rosenberg in the flesh, it was all she could do to keep from fainting.

Now that her dream girl had a name however, things had still not changed. Tara still dreamt of her death every single time. She saw it as though she were floating somewhere above her body. Watching yourself die was not a pleasant experience. Every single time she woke covered in sweat and shivering in terror. The worst thing about the dream was knowing that, surely night followed day, the dream would always come again.

The dream was always slightly different. The location was often different - the cabin she shared with Willow, her own family home in Oregon, her barrack room back in Sunnydale and unfamiliar places she was sure she had never been. Most often she died in the explosion, her body torn by flying shrapnel or crushed beneath falling metal. Once she had even drowned as the ship flooded. There was only one element that remained consistent throughout all of them. Her last word was always the same.

"Willow," she whispered the name, feeling it leave her lips like a sweet but painful caress.

Tara brushed her sweaty, limp hair back from her face and lent over the side of the bunk. Willow's bed was impeccably made and very much empty as it had been for the last two nights. She sighed and rolled off her bunk. Her feet landed on the floor with a dull thud. She was about to grab her toilet kit from her locker but she paused for a moment. Tara lent over and brushed her fingers ever so lightly against Willow's pillow, wishing it were Willow's cheek she was touching.

* * *

Willow hadn't seen Tara for the past two days. She had felt dreadful for her obvious avoidance but every time she had tried to muster up the courage to approach the peculiar blonde her entire insides achieved the consistency of jelly. The last two days had been a complete disaster of apocalyptic proportions - literally. The world was being overrun by an enemy Willow hadn't even seen, and she had to deal with the fact that she had completely lost her mind. The repetition of the dream was proof enough of that.

The door swung inwards with a squeak and Willow had to close her eyes for a few seconds as the light was flicked on without warning. When she managed to prise them open, she found Tad Dempster standing in the doorway still bundled in his heavy, fur-lined coat from the nights watch.

"Rosenberg, you're positively blue!" he said in a worried voice. "Are you coming down with something?" The XO retrieved her heavy woollen sweater and handed it to her.

Willow struggled to pull on the thick garment with numb fingers. She became stuck as she tried to pull in down over her head, her arms helplessly in the air. Dempster was there in an instant, tugging it downwards. The first thing she saw when the sweater popped over her head was his concerned face. Once he had ensured that Willow was not going to die a horrible death by sweater asphyxiation, he stepped back to give her plenty of space.

"I'm fine. I just slept badly that's all," Willow's voice sounded a little strained.

"And you look it!" the young officer replied emphatically. At Willow's indignant glare he narrowed his eyes playfully. "Hey, you did say that I was a friend. I get to say things like that. So quit it with the evil-Rosenberg act because it's not very convincing."

"Fine," Willow muttered.

"You'd better shower or whatever, fix your hair at least. There's a briefing at 0700 - something about a merchant convoy escort."

"Sure thing," Willow stood, her head swam for a moment and she stumbled.

Tad caught her and helped her to the door, a supportive arm around her waist. "Look, are you sure you're not coming down with anything?" He put his hand to her forehead to find it a little hot.

Willow waved him away, protesting that she was fine as she stepped out into the corridor. She wasn't looking where she was going and felt herself smack into someone. Whoever it was had dropped their toilet kit and was bent over picking it up as Willow found her bearings.

"I'm so sorry," Willow bent down as well to help retrieve a fallen toothbrush.

Willow looked up at the same moment as a very flustered Tara. For a moment all either of them could do was stare dumbstruck. So many words came to both of them, words they wanted to say so very badly and yet were far too terrified to say aloud. Tara glanced up at Tad who was standing in the doorway with a somewhat amused expression on his face. He very quickly wiped it off when he saw a pained look on Tara's face as she looked back to Willow and then to him again. The blonde's face fell and Tad could have hit himself when he realised what she must be thinking. His jaw worked soundlessly as he tried to think of something to say to rectify the situation. He drew a complete blank and decided that the best thing to do was to leave the two of them to it.

"Um, have a good day officers," the door to his cabin closed very quickly indeed.

Willow held out the toothbrush for Tara to take and the blonde practically snatched it from her fingers. They both stood at the same time, Willow all too aware of her dishevelled appearance.

"Tara, I…" Willow tried to think of something to say, something witty that would relieve the tension hanging in the air like a thick, cloying fog. "I was j-just…"

"Sorry for running into you, sir," Tara replied quietly. She brushed past Willow's shoulder and moved off quickly down the hall.

Willow watched her go, shoulders slumped dejectedly. It was only when the blonde had disappeared into the washroom that Willow realised what Tara had just seen.

_Oh my giddy aunt!_ Willow whacked herself with the palm of her hand. _Me coming out of Dempster's cabin, looking as though-_ Willow looked down at herself, her pyjama top was almost completely unbuttoned and she was sure her hair was a complete bird's nest. _-looking as though I've been shagging all night…oh goddamn you, Rosenberg!_

Willow made a quick dash for her own cabin seeing that Tara was all too obviously not in residence. The only thought running through her head was how on earth she was going to work up the nerve to tell Tara that her sleeping in Tad's room was purely out of her fear. _I can't admit to her that I'm too scared to talk to her!_ Willow paused for a moment and lent against the bulkhead, breathing in deeply to quell her panic. Human mating rituals were ridiculous.

* * *

"Maclay, you look like you've been put through the proverbial ringer," Faith greeted Tara as she sat down, a broad smile on her face.

Tara immediately thought that such smiles should be illegal - on this morning more than any other. She merely shrugged in reply but at the look of curiosity that suddenly lit up the brunette's features, she regretted her choice of response. To Faith's credit she recognised the expression on the blonde's face as one of hurt rather than guilt or indifference. Although she was a little disappointed it wasn't guilt, it was so much more fun to pry into.

"Something up, T?" Faith was usually blunt, but there was an honest touch of concern in her voice.

Tara did not reply. She just sat there cradling her coffee. Every so often she would raise it to her lips and take a small sip. The movement had nothing to do with wanting the drink, it was all about the direction of her gaze. Faith noticed she was far too preoccupied with something or someone on the far side of the room. She didn't need three guesses to figure out who it was. Sitting on the other side of the room was Willow Rosenberg. The Devil's Captain was cradling her own cup of coffee as though it were life itself. Her skin was a similar shade of grey to Tara's. Faith grunted in exasperation.

"What in tarnation are you two doing to each other?" Faith asked, then her face suddenly lit up and she grabbed Tara's shoulder to force her to met her gaze. "You went against my advice didn't you? Well, if I were you I would've too…but damn, T! I got to tell you, if you two are shagging you've really got to get over yourselves and lighten up!"

"Faith please…that's not it at all," Tara began, not wanting to endure one of the brunette's blunt conversations.

"Then what is it?" Faith asked insistently. "Either spit it out or quit looking like death warmed up."

"She is sleeping with someone," Tara replied in a small, bland voice. "But it's not me."

"Really? Who?" Faith's curiosity perked up, her eyes gleamed as she leaned forward.

"It doesn't matter," Tara replied, wishing Faith would leave her alone. _It's not me, that's all I know…and I hate myself for wishing it was._

"Come on, Maclay," Faith pried just a little more.

Tara spun on her, her coffee slashing over her hand with the movement but she ignored the scalding heat. "Just shut the hell up, Faith! Don't you know when to quit?"

Faith raised both her hands in defeat. She moved away from Tara slightly lest she find herself on the receiving end of an angry right hook. Instead she settled for throwing the redheaded captain on the other side of the room one of the most evil glances she could muster. If anyone deserved to be happy it was Tara. As far as Faith could tell, Willow Rosenberg was making her life a complete misery. Either that or they were inflicting it on themselves…two equally guilty parties. Faith groaned inwardly, wishing she could just sit the two of them down and force them to spit out everything they were feeling. Or maybe they could just cut to the chase and fuck. Faith found that always worked perfectly when you had been tiptoeing around someone for much longer than was necessary.

* * *

Willow stopped trying to cast discreet little glances at Tara when Faith took up staring at her intently. The look on the brunette's face said she was about ready to come and tear Willow's throat out. She ducked her head, letting her hair fall over her face so she couldn't even see the blonde out the corner of her eye. She resumed staring at her coffee, sure that fairly soon the whole ship would believe that she and Tad Dempster were shagging. Willow groaned inwardly.

"Hey, Will, I hate to ask but-" Alex leaned over and jabbed her in the arm. "-why does Faith look as though you she wants to tear you limb from limb? If were you I'd be running for the first porthole!"

Willow shrugged, not wanting to let another person in on her embarrassment. She was spared from further questions when Boone and Dempster walked in. All twelve pairs of eyes from both Slayer and Devil squadrons turned to the front of the room expectantly as Boone unfolded his notes.

Willow kept her eyes locked on Boone the whole time and yet she could still tell that Tad was avoiding her gaze. She was angry at herself for no having the guts to run after Tara and make her listen until she had explained exactly what had happened. Boone cleared his throat and Willow chided herself for letting inappropriate thoughts intrude on what was a formal briefing.

Boone continued as Willow tuned in, "We've been receiving garbled transmissions from a merchant convoy somewhere to our north since yesterday afternoon and have finally managed to get a fix on their position. For the past two days they have been under heavy attack. Most of their escort has been sunk. They're requesting air cover to escort them the last league of their journey north and I'm dispatching the Slayer and the Devils. You will rendezvous with the convoy which is approximately fifty miles to the north east and accompany them to…" Boone paused and looked as though he were searching for an exit but came up a complete blank. "Well…you will accompany them to their destination."

Willow frowned and noticed confused looks on the faces of everyone around her. Weren't they going to be informed of the convoy's destination? She wondered who would be the first to speak up and was about to raise her own hand. Boone however, sensed this mood amongst his pilot and his face as he stared at them answered the unspoken question. He wasn't going to tell them a thing.

"Your assignment is escort…not pursuit. Be vigilant…and good luck."

"Sir," Buffy piped up. "What is the convoy carrying?"

"That's irrelevant, Summers. All you need to know is that it is imperative that convoy reaches its destination." Buffy nodded, suitably chastised and Boone nodded with an air of finality. "Well, what are you all waiting for? Suit up, you're airborne in thirty minutes," Boone's tone was deadly serious. "Don't go chasing anything, stick to the convoy and return to the Odysseus as soon as you are told. Am I understood?"

There was a chorus of 'yessirs' around the room and the sound of a dozen chairs scraping backwards in haste.

Tara watched Willow's back as she left ahead of her. She wished she could say something as simple as 'stay safe' but it was by no means that simple.

* * *

"It's XO Dempster," Tara said quietly as she and Faith rode the elevator up to the flight deck with Tara's Gullstrike.

"Huh?" Faith asked as she tugged on her thick woollen gloves, she couldn't hear the blonde over the whirring of the elevator mechanism.

"Willow is sleeping with Dempster, you know, Boone's XO," Tara said a little more loudly and blushed when she did so. "I know you said she went for women but I saw her coming out of his cabin this morning in her pyjamas." When she said it aloud, Tara realised how stupid it sounded…and how much it hurt.

Faith suddenly laughed and Tara looked at her in surprise, Faith was laughing at her misery? Tara ducked her head in shame but Faith just reached over and cupped her chin, tilting her head back upwards.

"Did you stop to ask them what had happened?" Faith asked, trying to stop herself laughing. "Or did you just turn tail and run?"

"What?" Tara asked, her cheeks warming with embarrassment at the mere thought of asking such a question. "What was I supposed to ask?"

"Well, 'have you two be fucking?' is always a good one. Short and to the point. Usually you can judge the answer just by their reaction."

"Faith!" Tara growled, about to put an end to the conversation before it went even further into 'don't go there' territory. Faith also knew full well that she hated the use of such crude language.

"Sorry, T!" Faith lightly brushed Tara's arm as the elevator locked into place, level with the flight deck. The deck crew quickly moved to unlock the folded wings.

Faith followed Tara as she moved around to the cockpit. Tara scrambled easily onto the wing of the plane and from there she climbed into the Gullstrike's tiny cockpit, lowering herself down with her arms until she was in snugly. Faith clambered up after her and took the job normally done by the deck crew, helping Tara fit her harness straps securely.

"I was just asking because I don't think that anything is going on between them," Faith almost sounded as though she were sorry for getting Tara so riled up. When Tara looked up with a look on her face that was so innocent and hopeful, Faith finally did feel a little sorry for her tactlessness. "Dempster has been on night watch for the past three nights…and I know he was last night because I saw him while I was out…err, visiting someone. So he and Willow can't have been doing what you thought they were up to last night, he was on duty. You really should find out the facts before you jump to conclusions."

Tara was reluctant to get her hopes up. "But they could still be-"

"T," Faith said firmly. "Quit it with the self-torture. They're not sleeping together. Like I said, Red doesn't do stick. There," Faith checked that the last strap was firmly tightened. "You're good to go."

"Thanks," Tara said weakly as Faith jumped down.

Tara looked out from her cockpit to where the brightly painted red Drakens sat on the other side of the flight deck. Willow was checking that her wings had been folded down correctly much to the disgust of the deck sergeant who insisted that the job had been done by the book. She saw the redhead flash the man a quick grin as if to say sorry before she climbed up onto the wing of her aircraft. Just before she climbed into the cockpit she glanced around to check everything was in order with the rest of the Devils.

_She doesn't do stick…but that doesn't mean that she wants to do me._ Tara sighed, remembering the way Willow's body had felt pressed against hers in the dream, the taste of her lips from their all too brief kiss.

She was lost for a few moments staring at Willow before she saw Buffy gesturing wildly, Tara realised she was supposed to be warming up her engine already. As the huge machine coughed and roared into life at the flick of a switch Tara wished that this mess between her and Willow had been sorted out before they set out.

She wasn't afraid to die but she was afraid of dying and never knowing what it was like to hold someone she loved close in her arms.


	9. Break, Break, Break!

**Chapter Nine  
Break, Break, Break!**

"There's the convoy below," Willow glanced out her cockpit window and saw the fleet on the ocean below.

She noticed that several of the merchantmen were heavily damaged, one was listing to the side and lagging behind the rest. Their destroyer escort was nowhere to be seen and Willow had the horrible feeling that those ships had been sunk at some stage in the journey. She drew in a deep breath and looked out either side of her cockpit window to see the rest of the Devils sitting in a perfect covering formation.

"This is Devil Captain to convoy," Willow hailed the convoy.

"Convoy…Devil...boy are we ever…see you chaps." The voice over the radio was broken but the message was discernible enough.

"Well, we've got your skies now," Willow said confidently. "Go make yourselves a cup of coffee and let us worry about the little green fuckers."

"…anks," the voice replied. "Over."

"Right, Devil Squadron form up to provide low level cover." It was a totally redundant question but Willow wanted to do everything by the book. "Slayer squadron are going to keep altitude and cover our arses." She squinted upwards to see the black silhouettes of the six Gullstrikes at eleven o'clock.

"Too right we are," Buffy's voice came snappily over the radio. "Keep your eyes peeled everyone."

* * *

Half an hour later Willow's entire body was rigid with unreleased tension. She had been scanning the sky anxiously the entire time and yet had not seen on single thing. Yet she had been on edge the entire time. The fingers that gripped the stick had none of her usual casualness, rather they were white knuckled. Willow forced herself to calm down a little, relax her grip so that her fingers rested lightly on the cold metal. It lasted all of two seconds before she returned to her state of anxiety.

_This isn't like me at all. Since when have I ever flown like this? I wasn't even this nervous on my first solo flight when I was sixteen. _Willow had been a natural from the first moment she had climbed into the open cockpit of a Tiger Moth. She had ignored all ground signals telling her to land on her first solo flight. The only reason she did come down was because she the plane was almost out of fuel. _Then again. I've never been in combat before - never been shot at by anyone who actually wanted to kill me. I've got no kills to my name, let alone the five needed to become an ace. _

"Convoy to Flight…we've reached our destination," a voice snapped Willow out her reverie. "Thanks so much for seeing us here safely."

"Just doing our jobs," Willow replied, squinting as she peered downwards to see exactly where it was that the ships had arrived.

There was absolutely nothing in sight and Willow wondered if they had the wrong co-ordinates. However, one by one the ships in the convoy disappeared. Not all at once, just very gradually. It was a weird sight to see an eight hundred foot long ship disappearing as though it were being erased in a sketchbook. Willow had to blink a few times to realise that they were indeed gone.

It only took her a moment to realise what had happened. It was a net – the same technology that concealed the Fifth fleet. What it disguised however, Willow had no idea. However she had much better things to do than hang around and sate her curiosity.

"Righto chaps," it was the Odysseus over the radio. "Job's done, now get back to the carrier pronto."

"I don't need to be told that twice!" Charlie said in a relieved voice. "Just being out here gives me the creeps."

"It's still our sky," Willow replied bluntly, kicking the Draken into a sharp turn about. "Let's keep it that way."

* * *

"The fleet should be just ahead, the net will be opening shortly to let us through," Buffy's voice sounded over the comm.

"No sign of hostiles either," Alex added in what sounded like a very relieved voice.

"Runnin' scared I bet. Where are these little green fuckers holed up?" William said earnestly. "I wanna tear some up."

"Cut the chatter Devil four," Willow snapped. As far as she was concerned, if the enemy chose not to engage then she would thank her lucky stars. "Summers, can you see anything?"

"Nothing except your little red arses," Buffy replied. Slayer squadron was circling above at twenty-five thousand feet.

Willow still couldn't see the fleet and yet she knew it was somewhere just ahead. A small light flashing on her cockpit panel indicated that the net was about to open. "Good, approach is clear…window opening in ten seconds, nine…eight…seven-"

"Captain Summers, we've got company!" It was one of the other Slayer pilots. "Hugging the ocean down to the left and moving away…possibly a scout."

Willow had to make a split second decision. She aborted the re-entry through the net and banked. The rest of the Devils followed suit in perfect formation.

Her eagle eyes picked out the low flying dark shape. Although indistinct, it was her first glimpse of what they were up against. From what she could make out, it fitted the description that Boone had given them. Willow stifled at involuntary shiver as she stared at the alien craft. Although she was usually fascinated by all manner of flying machines, she would most certainly not be disappointed if she never saw this one again. She didn't care how it stayed in the air, or how it handled, all she wanted to know was how easy they were to destroy.

Willow remembered Boone's careful warning about pursuit. Even though it was just one lone aircraft, she fought back the urge to order the whole squadron to chase after and gun down the single LGF. _It would be so easy._

"Re-form Devils, we're going through the net. Summers, Devil squadron are standing down, advise the Slayers do the same," Willow fervently hoped that Buffy would follow her lead ever though she knew full well that the Slayer captain hated taking orders as much as she did.

"Roger that," was all Buffy said. She had never liked taking orders from Willow.

"Fuck this."

Willow recognised Dennis' voice over the radio and she glanced out to her left to see Dennis peeling out of formation. He dove in the direction of the lone Martian that was still moving away from the Fleet's position.

"God dammit, Dennis, get your arse back here!" Willow yelled furiously into her mask.

The young man wasn't replying. Either he had switched off his radio or was ignoring her. Willow watched the red plane continue to dive on the lone black shape hugging the water below.

"Emers!"

However, Dennis had already pulled into a perfect firing position. He let the Martian plane have short bursts from his cannons. The black shape had time to bank once before the bullets tore into it. Willow watched from above as its wing disintegrated and the black shape slipped into a spiral. Before it plunged towards a watery grave, it caught fire and exploded violently. All that was left to hit the waters surface were a few fiery fragments.

"Hoorah!" Dennis' excited voice sounded loud in Willow's ears and she gritted her teeth.

She watched the Draken perform a victory roll, much to close to the sea's surface for her liking. Just as Dennis had straightened out Willow heard the very last thing she wanted to hear at that moment and yet she had been sub-consciously waiting for it,

_It's a trap!_

"Company!" Buffy's voice came yelling urgently over the radio. "Twelve o'clock high. They're in the sun. Move your arses down there!"

"Break, break, break!" Willow yelled an urgent warning just as she looked up and saw the dark shapes descending on them from the sun.

She kicked the Draken into a desperate right turn just in time to see blue tracer lights go whizzing past her wing. At that moment, as all hell broke loose, it was every pilot for themselves.

* * *

Tara looked in horror down to her left as the small swarm of Martians descended on the tiny Drakens far below. She watched each of the British planes make frantic turns to escape the diving craft. They broke formation and scattered as blue tracer lights went flying past them. She watched the lead Draken – Captain Rosenberg's – bank sharply to the right. She went into a steep dive, a Martian was hard on her tail.

_Buffy!_ Tara looked desperately in the direction of the Gullstrike sitting at the head of the formation, willing her to give the order to assist the beleaguered Devils.

"Slayers, lets show these LGFs why its not good manners to sneak up on our friends," Buffy's voice came over the radio and Tara heaved a sigh of relief. "Watch out for each other down there."

When Tara opened the Gullstrike's throttle as far as it would go and dived, she felt the familiar and wonderful surge of adrenalin surge throughout her body. When she was in the air it was all too easy to forget who she really was. She was no longer the shy, shuttering young woman, but someone powerful in control of every aspect of her world. While never ambitious to the point of being reckless, Tara could handle any plane as though it were simply an extension of her own body. Although in reality she made all the manual adjustments to the controls with her own hands and feet, it was as though she were feeling them.

In a flat dive the Gullstrike was the fastest plane in Air Command. The gull-winged planes swooped downwards as a pack, each one broke off only when its pilot marked a target. Tara scanned the sky below and saw one of the dark shapes on the tail of a frantically swerving Draken. Tara slipped in behind the black plane and lined it up in her sights. Just as she was about to jab her thumb down on the trigger it was gone.

Tara blinked, did these planes just disappear in mid air?

Blue lights flashing past her cockpit told her differently. She realised that its manoeuvrability was leagues ahead of the Gullstrike. It had simply climbed and turned the tables on her. She gritted her teeth, annoyed that her all too abundant pride had allowed something intent on killing her to get into a position where it could do so.

* * *

Their tiny patch of sky was a tangled jungle of planes. Black interspaced with blue and red, each one ducking and weaving in an effort to kill or stay alive.

Willow had tried nearly every trick she knew in order to cease being the target of the aggravating blue lights that kept shooting past her plane as she twisted and turned. Sweat beaded on her brow and her hands grew slippery inside her gloves but still she kept her grip tight, her hands steady.

Willow saw a flash of red from the corner of her eye. She looked to see Dennis's Draken take several hits on the wing. She took her eyes off his plane for a few moments as she swerved again to avoid the plane that was on her tail before she could try and come to his aid. A huge explosion suddenly rocked her Draken, Willow pulled up just in time to avoid the flying debris from an exploding plane. Her eyes widened when she realised what had happened.

"Dennis…goddammit!" Willow slapped her thigh with her palm.

As she continued to pull upwards to gain some height, she heard a crackling voice over her radio,

"This is the Odysseus to all planes. Your orders are to get out of there as soon as possible. Windows are going to be opened in the net just in time for each of you to get through."

"This is Slayer captain, affirmative Odysseus," Buffy's voice came over the radio.

Willow felt a sense of relief when she looked at her dangerously low fuel levels._ About time! Any longer and we would've been flying on fumes only._

Willow turned the plane towards the Net, she could see absolutely nothing and yet she knew it was there. Whoever was controlling the protective enclosure had to time it just right in order to allow the friendlies through.

She saw a Gullstrike disappear into the net in front of her, the window closed immediately behind it and the Martian that had been tailing the plane suddenly disintegrated. In a ball of flame it was gone and Willow shivered as she pushed the throttle forward as far as it would go.

_Crispy fried Willow - just what I always wanted to be._

Suddenly she heard an explosion behind her and realised that she had already passed through the net. The Martian that had been on her tail a moment earlier had been destroyed as the Net closed on it. She sighed with relief and brought the Draken into the Odysseus' landing pattern. As she guided her plane in she caught a flash out of the corner of her eye. One of the Martians had managed to slip through the Net. It was engaged in a low level dogfight with one of the Gullstrike's. Both aircraft were dancing and weaving perilously close to the masts of the Fleet in an effort to avoid flying into the Net above them.

* * *

Instead of having a heart attack when she realised that a lone Martian had slipped through the net behind her, Tara had simply kicked the Gullstrike into a dive. She took her plane down low to the water so that there would be no danger of flying smack into the net from the inside.

Although arguably she had just created a bigger problem for herself by having to dodge the Fleet, Tara calmly steered between the hulking ships. She banked sharply to avoid HMS Nestor's radio mast and allowed herself a quick glance over her shoulder to see the awful shape still there. Tara gritted her teeth and adjusted her tactics. She sent the Gullstrike into a climb directed straight at the Net.

All too quickly, the pink glow grew larger in front of her cockpit until it filled her entire screen. It was difficult to judge distance given its insubstantial nature, but instinct kicked in and she violently jerked the stick and cut the throttle. The Gullstrike fell into a sideways slip away from the deadly glow. Tara saw sparks fly as the Martian also turned but not fast enough, it scraped the Net. The Gullstrike slipped into a spin and she blacked out as the blood rushed from her head.

Seconds later she came to, finding the controls heavy in her grip as the plane plunged downwards. With a grunt of effort, Tara regained control. The stick felt as though it were mired in glue when she pulled back up just in time to avoid an impromptu swim.

"Nice one, Maclay." It was Buffy's voice over the radio and Tara realised that the Martian had not survived its brush with the net. She allowed herself a small sigh of relief.

As fate would have it however, the Gullstrike's engine began to protest, coughing and spluttering. The controls felt sluggish and Tara's gaze fell on the needle of her fuel gauge. It was sitting well past empty.

"This is Slayer four to the Odysseus." Tara surprised herself by just how calm she sounded. "You'd better clear the deck because I'm landing this plane right now!"

* * *

Willow watched as Tara's Gullstrike touched down perfectly while she still circled the carrier. She looked out behind her and saw the remaining four Devils circling with her. Dennis, the poor chap, was gone.

There would be time later to reflect on what had happened - right now she had to get her bird down too. As soon as Tara's Gullstrike had taxied forward over the crash barriers, Willow set up for her own approach. As she went through all the pre-landing checks and re-checks that she knew by heart, Willow's mind wandered to the mysterious blonde. On the ground she was so timid - almost to the point of being invisible. Yet get her in a plane and she was amazing! Willow didn't think it was possible for someone to have such a remarkably different flying personality.

_She can fly me like that anytime!_ Willow's lips curled into a decidedly hungry grin.

She was still thinking of the blonde after she touched down and taxied over the crash barriers. Just when she was about to completely lose herself in irreverent and wanton thoughts of naked limbs, the image of Dennis's Draken going up in a ball of flames came back to her. It was an image that she had been doing her best to shut out of her thoughts.

Willow shut off the Draken's engine and the prop blades eventually stopped spinning. With all that had happened, she forced herself to get all thoughts of the blonde from her head. Instead the fast, frantic combat played out in her mind like a movie reel. In black and white – rewind, close call, too many close calls. Their enemy was fast, much faster than a Draken or a Gullstrike. The strange black aircraft's movements were unnaturally abrupt and difficult to predict. However Willow's analytical mind was already pondering several potential several weaknesses. Her first port of call would be her office to write a detailed report on the combat. Probably accompanied by a glass of whiskey or something equally as strong.

Suddenly she heard the screeching of metal behind her and she looked out the side of her cockpit to see Alex's Draken coming in at a dangerous velocity…much too fast. The bat man was waving his bright orange bats in an effort to get the plane to pull up. Willow saw dark black smoke start to billow from the exhausts, the engine spluttered and died completely just before the aircraft ploughed into the deck. It missed all the arrestor wires, continuing its dangerous slide straight into the first crash barrier. As always the first barrier broke, the wires snapping and flying dangerously close to crewmen who had to dive into the crash nets off the side of the deck in order to avoid disaster.

The plane slammed into the second barrier, still sliding and it strained against the wires. Mercifully they held and the Draken was brought to a tangled halt. Willow saw no sign of any movement from the cockpit.

"Alex!" Willow hissed. She threw off her harness straps as fast as her fingers would work on the clasps.

She leapt straight to the deck from her cockpit, she let out a small cry as her bad leg buckled slightly beneath her. Ignoring the shooting pains coursing up her leg, Willow scrambled between the wires of the crash barrier in an effort to reach her friend.

Alex's cockpit was still locked in place and Willow fought angrily with the catch on the outside. She gave a cry of frustration as it refused to budge. She received a fright when the engine suddenly caught alight, just a small flame and yet in mere seconds it was almost too hot to stay where she was.

"Alex!" Willow cried before she hurriedly drew out her pistol from the holster inside her jacket.

She broke the canopy with the butt of the gun before using both it and her gloved hands to clear the remainder of the jagged glass from around the edges of the canopy frame. Willow tossed the gun aside and hastily undid the unconscious pilot's harness straps. Once she had freed him from the restraints, she grabbed Alex around his upper torso. Trying with every ounce of strength she possessed, she heaved him upwards. Willow grunted loudly with effort, heaving and straining as she tried to haul him out of his seat. Sweat beaded on her forehead and the fire licked even closer. At any moment she feared the whole plane would erupt in a ball of flame, consuming them both.

"Alex!" Willow yelled in the young man's face. "You've got to help me, I can't do this by myself!"

Alex's eyes fluttered open and Willow thanked her lucky stars he didn't panic at the flames so close to them. Pushing weakly with his arms, he managed to lever himself out of the cockpit. Willow pulled as well and they both tumbled free of the cockpit, Willow went crashing down onto the wing with Alex falling on top of her.

Willow struggled out from beneath him to see that he had passed out again. Grabbing him beneath his arms she struggled to drag him away from the fire but she was so very tired. Her breaths came in laboured gasps and she could hardly stand her own weight on her leg let alone drag Alex's weight. He felt as though he weighed a ton as she dragged him inch by inch away from the unbearable heat.

Just as she feared she couldn't get him away fast enough there were more hands grabbing him away from her. Willow fell backwards as two burly sailors grabbed Alex and carried him out of harm's way. Someone helped Willow up, an arm around her back. She had just barely started her feet moving when the finally Draken went up. A wave of heat flew past her, blowing her forward and face first into the deck. Whoever was helping her picked her back up again and dragged her to a safe distance.

Willow rolled over onto her back and watched the shell of the Draken stubbornly burning even as a swarm of men with fire extinguishers moved around it. It was a twisted, gnarled mess - totally unsalvageable. With a wince Willow managed to scramble to her feet, her knee buckled slightly but she held herself up by sheer force of will power. The crew man who had helped her was standing beside her. She turned to look at him blankly. It was only when she saw his lips moving that she realised he was shouting at her.

"Sir, are you alright?" he demanded loudly, almost shouting in her ear. "Captain Rosenberg!"

Willow wasn't ignoring him as she couldn't hear him. The only thing she could hear in her ears was the echo of the deafening explosion as Alex's Draken had gone up in flames. Staring vacantly into space, she was too shell struck to wonder if she'd gone deaf. Willow scanned the deck, the still burning wreckage surrounded by men trying to fight the fire with extinguishers. It was hot, the smoke burned her lungs and she turned away from it. She took one step forward and stumbled slightly, feeling as awkward as a newborn foal. Through the smoke she saw a figure standing watching her, blonde hair swirling about. It was Tara.

Unless Willow was mistaken she was sure that the look on the blonde's face was that of relief. Was she relieved to find that Willow had escaped unscathed? Willow tried to lift a foot as though to make her way towards the blonde but it wouldn't move. Instead she just smiled slightly and nodded. Tara returned the smile, just the barest movement of her lips before she moved away. Willow sighed, in relief or exasperation she couldn't tell. All she knew for sure was that what she was feeling was beginning to feel suspiciously unlike a simple desire for sex with the beautiful blonde. Her gut wrenched painfully, her insides felt as though they were mush…and not just from the adrenaline that had surged through her while she was pulling Alex from the burning plane.

She blinked, knowing that she probably appeared awfully silly staring at nothing and looked around her to find that the medics had Alex strapped to a stretcher. She quickly moved to his side, relived to see him awake and talking. He smiled when he saw her approach.

"My gorgeous saviour," he said as she took his hand between her own grimy mitts.

"You would have done the same for me, Harris," Willow managed a smile for her friend's sake. "Besides, I kinda like having you around me."

"I make you look good don't I?" he asked as the medics picked him up.

Willow shrugged playfully and followed them as they moved him towards the elevator. Keeping his hand within her own. When she looked briefly over her shoulder, she couldn't see Tara anywhere.

* * *

Willow only retreated to her office after she had escorted Alex all the way to the medical bay. She hadn't escaped fast enough and one of the doctors had insisted on checking her out as well. Her ears were no longer ringing and her knee was no longer throbbing. After being proclaimed fine, Willow had been grateful to make her exit and retreat somewhere where it was quiet.

She collapsed in her chair and tugged her singed mittens off. Willow felt a sharp twinge of pain when she did so. A small shard of glass was protruding from her left palm, a residue of clearing the canopy glass from the rim of Alex's cockpit. She hadn't even realised at the time and even now she felt very little pain. She winced slightly as she drew it out. A sudden rush of blood followed after it finally popped out of her skin. Willow watched it flow down her palm and drip onto the floor for a few moments.

After a few moments, she had the clarity of mind to reach into one of her desk drawers and fumble for a first aid kit. Awkwardly she patched herself up with a bandage and some messily applied tape. It wasn't a pretty job by any means but it stemmed the flow of blood well enough.

She threw the kit on the desk, a voice sounded out from behind her and she spun in her chair to see Dennis standing outside the office door. For a few moments her eyes widened in surprise, she stood slowly.

"What happened, I thought you'd bought it for sure." It wasn't exactly the most enthusiastic greeting on Willow's part and yet it was all she could manage.

"Managed to kick the canopy off and bail out," Dennis replied. "Didn't have time to think about how low I was. It wasn't until I was floating in the water that I realised my chute only just opened in time."

"Are you alright?" Willow asked the sodden young man.

He nodded timidly. "The doc checked me out. Not a scratch. I was lucky enough to bail out right in the path of the Fleet and one of the launches picked me up…otherwise I might very well still be bobbing like a cork out there." Both Dennis and Willow shuddered at the thought of being left alone in the ocean with nothing but a dinghy. "I was born under a lucky star I guess."

Dennis padded a little closer in his wet socks, clutching a thick woollen blanket around his shaking shoulders. His lips were blue, his skin whiter than chalk and his hair plastered to his head like a newly born baby. For just a moment Willow wanted to scoop him into her arms like a stray lamb and tell him how glad she was to find him still in one piece…still alive after fearing that he had died as his plane smashed into the ocean.

Instead, her fist clenched with anger. Anger at what he had done. The way he had ignored her orders in order to chase after that lone Martian that had turned out to be the bait for a trap. It was a trap that had resulted in the loss of four planes and the death of two pilots. Willow crossed the floor space between them and without warning she let go a huge right hook. Her fist made contact with the young man's jaw and he fell backwards, landing with a thud on the hanger floor.

She had to fight the urge to jump up and down as her fist smarted painfully. Instead she settled for folding her arms, tucking the tender fist into the crook her arm as she glared down at Dennis.

He scrambled to a sitting position, the blanket fallen to the floor as he looked up at her. His eyes were watery and he held his hand over his nose to stem the trickle of blood that had begun to flow.

"If you ever disobey my orders again then you'll be lucky if all you end up with is a bloody nose!" Willow said in a harsh voice, her mind occupied with thoughts of Alex's plane going up in flames and dragging his limp body clear just in time.

"They killed my parents!" he half-yelled back, as loudly as he dared in the face of his angry captain. "I couldn't let them get away with it!"

"Yes you could!" Willow said angrily, her mood fuelled by thoughts of her own parents. She was barely concealing her frustration. She would have gone after the lone Martian with barely a second thought had she not been the one in charge of the safety of five other pilots. "For the sake of the rest of the squadron…yes you could!"

"They killed your family too!" Dennis protested. "Don't you want to kill them?"

_God yes!_ "Every single last one of them," Willow turned her head aside and whispered fiercely. She turned back to look at Dennis with fire in her eyes. "But I will not go about it like an angry child!" Reaching down she grabbed the young man by the scruff of his collar and dragged him roughly to his feet, his eyes were wide with surprise more than pain. "You cannot ignore orders just for your own sake, they are for a good reason. Any fool could see that it was a trap. So they probably killed your parents along with millions of other people, deal with it in your own time. Cry, crochet a few doilies…whatever…just don't ever put my life or the lives of your squadron in danger like that. If you ever pull a stupid stunt like that again there will be far more serious consequences than just my fist in your face!"

"I-I'm sorry," Dennis stuttered weakly. "My brain was screaming at me, telling me it was a trap but once I started diving…I couldn't pull out. Captain Rosenberg, sir, it won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't, now go get cleaned up before I lose my temper again," Willow let go and he stumbled backwards.

With one last look over his shoulder he broke into a fast walk. Once he was out of sight, Willow lent back against the fuselage of a nearby Draken and her shoulders sagged with the weight of what she had just had to do. Dennis was a nice young kid - probably too nice for war and all that it entailed. Willow felt the responsibility of her position. There were pilots that depended on her to get them through this nightmare. She felt old beyond her years.

"Rosenberg," Willow jumped slightly when she heard her name.

She looked up to see Buffy standing in front of her, still wearing her flight gear, on edge as though she had little time to spare. She also wore an odd expression that looked suspiciously like desperation.

"Buffy?"

Buffy's reply caused Willow to gape stupidly like the child she had just accused Dennis of being,

"I need your help."


	10. Permission to Speak Freely

**Chapter Ten**  
**Permission to Speak Freely**

The atmosphere could best be described as tense as Buffy faced down Boone in the hanger. When two extremely strong personalities went head to head, it was a volatile breeding ground for confrontation.

"I lost Hart, his plane blew up in my face," Buffy said in a controlled voice. "I won't leave Thompkins out there. I saw his chute so there's no reason for him not to be in his dinghy somewhere behind us. I won't leave him there."

"Or he could have drowned," Boone replied calmly.

The Commander was simply stating the obvious but Buffy bristled noticeably. "He's alive!" she hissed, fighting back an urge to jab her finger at the commander's chest.

Willow just stood quietly in the background, her arms folded across her chest as she listened to the Buffy Summers she remembered. It had always been one of Buffy's strongest traits as a leader; she would never leave anyone behind. Willow remembered the gruelling weeks of their basic PT training with anything but fondness. While she was a born pilot, physical exertion definitely did not come naturally. Buffy had cajoled, threatened and pushed Willow through every week of that course until she could manage a ten-mile run. It never came to her as easily as it did to Buffy, but it made her a better pilot. She remembered an incident where a fellow recruit had sprained his ankle on a long hike. They were miles from base. Buffy had enlisted Willow's help in carrying the young man all the way back. While Willow had struggled just to lift one foot after the other, Buffy had talked about anything and everything to keep their spirits up - even as the chill of night fell. That was the Buffy she saw now. Eventually it was all Boone could do to give his approval. As soon as he gave a sparse nod, Willow knew that she would offer to fly with Slayer squadron.

There was just one question on her mind. "Who's going to fly the Seal?"

Willow was referring to the Odysseus' amphibious flying boat – their only hope of staging a long-range rescue attempt. It would be impossible for one ship to leave the protection of the net and diverting the entire fleet was unthinkable. The flying boat would be essential - if they could even locate the pilot.

"I am." Willow spun around to see Tara striding purposefully towards them with her parachute kit in her arms and a resolute expression on her face.

"Very well, Maclay," Boone nodded his approval.

"Wait a second!" Willow couldn't help but speak up. She stepped forward into the foreground, Tara had started to turn away but now paused and looked over her shoulder at Willow. "You can't be seriously thinking of flying that plane…an unarmed flying boat into the middle…of those things?"

"Rosenberg?" Boone stared at her as though she were a moron. "Someone has to fly it, Maclay volunteered and that's that. Is it just you that has some particular problem with it?"

_Hell yes I do! It's suicide, she has absolutely no means of defending herself in that lumbering crate. She could be cut to ribbons in an instant. _Willow felt the combined gaze of Boone and the other pilots boring into her as though trying to figure out what the hell she was thinking. Well, every pair of eyes except one. Willow looked to Tara to see that the blonde staring awkwardly at her feet as though she desperately wanted to be somewhere else. When Willow saw the twin spots of colour in Tara's cheeks, she realised what she had done in speaking out. She might as well have said that Tara couldn't handle the job.

"No, no problem," Willow replied quickly. She kept her eyes on Tara but the other pilot wouldn't look at her. "Flying Officer Maclay is more than capable of handling herself."

"Well quit standing around yapping when you could all be in the air!" Boone snapped, he turned on his heels and strode away.

Tara finally raised her head and met Willow's gaze. Her jaw was set determinedly. Willow couldn't tell what she was feeling but as Tara turned away to try and leave again, Willow knew exactly what her own feelings were.

"Maclay," she said softly. Tara stopped walking but she didn't turn around. Willow continued, "I've got your back."

Willow felt a shoulder brush past hers roughly, it was Buffy. The Slayer captain assumed an aggressive stance between Willow and Tara. She spun and stared intently at Willow even though she spoke to Tara,

"We've all got your back, Maclay."

Tara was grateful when she could finally slip away from the gaze of the two captains and head for the hanger deck where the Seal was kept until it was needed. She didn't want anyone to see the confused expression that lingered on her face. Firstly Captain Rosenberg had tried to protest against her flying the rescue craft. She might as well have just plainly said that she did not rate Tara's abilities as a pilot. Tara could have spoken up for herself was it any other pilot, she would have simply flown as she always did and proven them wrong. It was Willow however, and she found it almost impossible to speak in the redhead's presence.

Willow watched Tara go until she could no longer see the young woman. She turned to Buffy as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. "So, who else is coming?" Willow asked, ignoring the Slayer's glare.

Buffy inclined her head to the left and for the first time Willow noticed Dennis standing there. He had changed his sweater, but his pants were still obviously damp.

"Dennis?" Willow asked seeing the young man in his flying gear, ready to go. He had also borrowed a parachute rig from someone as his own floating in the sea somewhere.

"The XO said you needed a few volunteers for search and rescue," he said in a firm voice.

"You're not coming," Willow said bluntly.

"Rosenberg," Buffy stepped between them. "He volunteered and I'm going to take all the help I can get."

"You don't have a plane," Willow tried a different tactic

"I'll fly the spare," Dennis fired back determinedly. "I made a serious error in judgement, but it won't happen again, sir. Please, let me do this."

For all the young man's courage and determination, she didn't want to fly with someone who disobeyed orders. Pilots like that ended up getting others around them killed. Willow sighed and, against her better instincts, she gave a reluctant nod.

"Right, let's get going," Buffy announced impatiently. "I want to do everything we can to find Thompkins before dark."

* * *

As she guided her Draken through the air with instinctive adjustments to the controls, Willow couldn't help but keep turning her eyes to the lumbering plane that flew in the middle of the formation. The flying boat looked every inch its namesake – a lumbering, slow seal. The belly of the craft was huge and bulbous to enable it to land on water, but it rendered it extremely un-manoeuvrable in flight. She imagined Tara sitting at the controls, a determined expression on her serious face and blue eyes scanning the sky for any sign of trouble. All four planes hugged the ocean floor, looking for any sign of Thompkins, the missing pilot.

Radio silence never unnerved Willow. She enjoyed talking immensely, sharing jokes with her squadron as they flew but silence gave her time to retreat into herself. It was just her sitting in that tiny metal capsule. The din of the engine was deafening and yet she viewed it as a gentle purr. It actually made thinking easier. Naturally her thoughts drifted towards the one place they had almost constantly been dwelling. Willow had the feeling that some part of her should rue the day that Tara had climbed down from her cockpit on the deck of the Odysseus. From that moment she had felt a myriad of different emotions, emotions that weren't normally associated with her pursuit of women. At first Willow had trouble learning what it was she wanted. Of course she wanted sex – she was young and madly appreciative of curves and a gorgeous pair of tits. She knew full well that Tara had both – once she'd caught a split second glimpse of Tara's naked torso while she was changing in their cabin. She'd barely seen anything, but it had been enough to stop her heart beating for several moments. Tara was a gorgeous young woman, curvaceous, and sexy in her own shy way. Willow definitely wanted sex, but there was something else that clouded her initial thoughts of lust.

It took Willow a while to notice that those longings were not just for hot, sweaty sex with the blonde but rather moments of a simpler nature - making her laugh, brushing the hair out of her eyes and holding her hand. Willow often imagined the blonde's fingers entwined in her own. In her mind, they always fit perfectly together. Most importantly, she wanted to protect her.

Willow kept an eagle eye on everything around them. It was out of her concern for Tara that she was the first to spot the tiny flash of yellow on the sea far below.

"I think I've spotted him!" she said over the radio just before diving down to take a better look.

It was indeed a dinghy – the tiny craft was being tossed about even though the sea was mercifully gentle. The pilot was a tiny huddle and Willow could see no sign of movement from him.

"I'm going down," Tara's voice said confidently in Willow's ear.

A few minutes later, Tara felt the belly of the ungainly plane hit the water smoothly as she brought the Seal into land. She thanked her lucky stars that the waves were no larger else such a landing would have been impossible. She taxied the plane as close to the dinghy as possible before shutting off the engine. The other two crewmembers aboard – Evans and Groves - already had their lifejackets on and were prising open the large hatch in the Seal's fuselage. Tara slipped out of the cockpit and went to help after ensuring that her own life jacket was snug around her torso. As she peered out of the hatch, she saw yellow dinghy bobbing close by. Evans had already grabbed the retrieval hook to catch it and drag it in closer. All the while the Seal was bobbing up and down in the water, making every simple task difficult.

"Hal!" Tara yelled to the pilot, "Hal?"

There was still no response. Evans hooked the dinghy and towed it in, up against the Seal's belly. Hal's usually swarthy skin was a pale shade of blue, dried blood was crusted all over his face. He was curled in a foetal position in what had been an effort to keep warm. Tara reached down, keeping a firm grip on a nearby strut for leverage. Both she and Groves reached down at the same time and wrapped their arms around the wounded pilot. Although Thompkins was a small man, he was extremely heavy as they struggled to life him out of the dinghy. Together they hauled him up. With the sudden jarring movement, Hal's eyes opened.

"Wha…" his voice was weak, rasping.

"Hal, it's Maclay," Tara continued to help lift him up until he was almost inside the Seal's fuselage. "You're going to be fine, we just need to get you into the plane."

Hal tried to push weakly with his legs, helping those who were trying to get him into the pane. However he was shivering violently and had to be manhandled aboard.

"Thanks," Hal muttered weakly as Tara tugged a blanket securely around his shoulders.

"No problem, buddy," Tara replied. She reached out for a few moments to place one of her hands over his trembling, gloved fingers as he clutched at the blanket. "You'll be back aboard the carrier and warm in no time. Okay?"

Tara reluctantly left her fellow pilot in the care of Evans and Groves. The less time the Seal spent bobbing around on the ocean, the better. When she reached the cockpit, she looked up to see her cover still circling overhead. She felt a slight thrill when she remembered that Willow was up there, watching over her.

Willow finally allowed herself to relax a little when, after what seemed an eternity, the Seal left the water and started climbing back into the air. The flying board re-joined formation and Willow took up a protective flanking position. Buffy did the same on the other side.

"All done, we're heading for home," Buffy said in a relieved voice.

With the rescue successfully completely, Willow did not allow herself to relax in the slightest. The Seal had been bobbing around on the ocean for the better part of ten minutes, with the rest of the flight circling overhead. They'd lingered too long and Willow worried as to what sort of attention they might have attracted.

It became apparent after they'd been on course back to the Fleet for less than five minutes - two shapes screaming at them from the right. Buffy saw them at the same time and yelled a warning over the radio. As the pair of Martians swooped on them, their formation scattered.

Willow yelled over her radio as she tried to latch onto the tail of the Martian nearest her. "Buffy, get the Seal out of here! Emers and I will deal with the hostiles."

Willow allowed herself to watch for a second as Buffy's Gullstrike shepherded the Seal away from the fray and back towards the fleet. The Martian she was following peeled off and made to chase them down. It gained quickly on the lumbering flying boat. With her heart stuck in her throat, Willow shoved the throttle forward and gave pursuit. The Draken tore after the Martian plane with Willow squeezing every ounce of speed she possibly could from the screaming engine.

"Get the hell away from her!" Willow whispered to herself fiercely. She let the Martian have a short burst from her 20mm cannons.

She saw the tracers narrowly miss, and hazarded a guess that the Martian would bank right away from her. Willow yanked her stick hard at almost the precise moment as the black shape in front of her. Her gun sight was filled with the perfect target. Willow jabbed her thumb down with a savage sneer. The 20mm cannons rattled as they discharged their payload. Small flashes appeared on the Martian as it passed her and suddenly black smoke was billowing from its wing. The smoke trailed like a plume behind it as it plunged down into the ocean. Willow didn't wait to see the splash or dwell on her kill, instead she came back about to find Dennis locked in an uneven duel with the remaining Martian.

"You'll all clear, Buffy. Get the hell out!" Willow said before latching onto the tail of the Martian.

"See you at home," Buffy replied firmly.

Dennis had been twisting and turning frantically to avoid being in the firing line but it was clear that there was no way he was going to get the upper hand. Willow opened fire, missing as the Martian suddenly ducked into a dive. She followed without hesitation and Dennis throttled back to duck in behind as her wingman.

Every move the Martian made, Willow kept up with it. Her hand gripped both the stick and the throttle firmly despite her sweaty palms. She was constantly making adjustments, refusing to be shaken off. However so far she had failed to score a single hit on the black shape in front of her. Willow knew full well that the speed of the Martian aircraft far outstripped the top speed of her own little fighter. If it really wanted to make a break then there would be nothing Willow could do to stop it. She gritted her teeth as it pulled upwards. Willow followed, squinting for a few moments as she passed into the sun's glare. When she completed the climb, Willow blinked to realise she had lost it in the sun.

The blue lights that flashed past her window a few moments later betrayed its position. Somehow it had positioned itself behind them.

"He's on our tail, sir!" Dennis barked over the radio.

Willow flicked into a steep turn. "Stay your course, Emers. I've had it with chasing this LGF."

"I'll be the bait," Dennis replied enthusiastically as he understood her plan. "Be quick about it!"

While the Martian was following Dennis, Willow slipped in behind it. As she dived down from above, she was presented with the perfect shot. She pressed the trigger expectantly - absolutely nothing happened. Willow jabbed her thumb down harder as though that would solve the problem. There was nothing but silence from the cannons.

"Shit! My guns have jammed!" Willow cursed angrily. In her desperation, she repeatedly stabbed the trigger over and over but to no avail.

After a few moments, the black shape in front of her banked sharply right in front of her. It opened itself perfectly to a raking shot from Willow's guns, but there was nothing she could do. Willow broke away and pulled alongside Dennis, realising that she was now flying an almost useless hunk of metal.

"Okay, I'm the target drone," Willow said calmly. "It's up to you."

Suddenly something exploded in front of her eyes - glass shattered and rained down inside her cockpit. Only seconds later a dark shape screamed overhead - seemingly only a few feet from her Draken. The noise was it made was high-pitched. It clawed painfully at her ears. It was so close that she could actually smell something foul. Willow looked right to see the Martian pulling back for another pass. Chill air blew in her face from the shattered holes in her canopy, mere inches from her head. Willow felt a searing, hot pain in her arm that she tried to ignore.

Somehow Dennis Emers had managed to get behind the Martian aircraft. He was shaking from head to foot as he struggled to line it up in his sights. Ahead of him, he could see that Captain Rosenberg was on the receiving end of a complete drubbing. However she continued to throw her Draken in a complex series of twists and turns. As inexperienced as he was, Dennis could tell that his commanding officer's plane had been hit. The Draken was already losing airspeed and a trail of black liquid was streaming from its fuselage.

He thought it should have been easy. The Martian was shooting at Captain Rosenberg, and yet it still seemed aware of every move he made. Each time he opened fire, the black shape evaded his sights. He had fired the Draken's cannons half a dozen times but he did not think he had scored a single hit. He almost squeaked in fright when he pressed the trigger yet again and nothing happened. The Draken had run out of ammunition. Dennis felt a chill run down his back despite his exertion. When the Martian turned to avoid him Dennis didn't move. He kept his course level and steady, ignoring one of the rules that had been constantly drilled into every pilot at Air Academy,

_Never fly straight and level in a combat zone for more than thirty seconds._

As he predicted, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the dark shape slot in behind him. Dennis throttled back and his airspeed fall. The Martian was coming closer and closer, waiting until the last possible moment before opening fire.

His insides had turned to jelly but he knew what he had to do - what he owed Captain Rosenberg. Dennis jerked back the stick, climbing sharply before cutting the throttle completely. It took only seconds for the unsuspecting Martian to plough into the back of the stalled Draken.

Willow heard a distant crash behind her and she turned about, her eyes widening when she saw flaming chunks of twisted metal raining down into the ocean. She turned and made a pass but could see no parachute. There was nothing but debris splashing down into the churning water below.

Willow didn't quite remember how she made her way back to the Fleet. She nursed her wounded Draken towards the Odysseus, cold air streaming in her face through the broken canopy. For onlookers, it was definitely not a text book landing. The plane slammed down hard, almost screeching into the crash barrier before its arrestor hook caught on the very last deck wire. Crew members rushed to help the Willow but she was already climbing hastily from the cockpit in case something caught fire.

Willow jumped down to the deck from the wing and landed on a pair of very shaky legs that didn't feel as though they belonged to her at all.

"Are you alright, sir?" One of the Odysseus' deckhands was first on the scene.

"I'm perfectly fine." She impatiently waved away an arm that tried to steady her. "Has Captain Summers landed?"

"A good fifteen minutes ago, sir, and the Seal too."

"The pilots?"

"Both fine - except the chap that they pulled from the water died before the docs could even get to take a look at him. Died mid-flight I think."

"Would someone please inform Commander Boone that Pilot Officer Emers was killed in action. It will be in my full report."

Willow just wanted to lie down and stay down for a good week. She managed to extricate herself from the attentions of those crowding around her. All she wanted was to get off the flight deck and find somewhere warm. She stumbled forward a few steps with her feet feeling as though they were made of lead. She half-stumbled, half fell her way to the nearest hatch where she tottered forward unstably. Predictably she found a steep seat of stairs. _Bloody ships and their bloody stairs,_ Willow thought as she fumbled for the railing. It was more a glorified ladder. Willow tottered forward on unsteady legs. Her vision blurred and she missed the top step altogether. There was a split second of panic as she seemed to hang in mid-air. Suddenly an arm wrapped around her waist, preventing a head-first tumble down the unforgiving stair well and a probable snapped neck.

Whoever it was gently lowered her to the floor and she sank to her knees. Willow was grateful that the walls around her seemed to have stopped moving. She eventually looked up at her saviour, only to find the concerned face of Flying Officer Maclay. The blonde's face was grimy with sweat, oil and smoke. Her usually gorgeous hair hung in matted tangles. There was a small cut on her forehead that had barely stopped bleeding.

Still in a daze, Willow reached up her hand to cup Tara's cheek tenderly. It was almost as though she were reaching out for a hallucination and she did not believe her fingers would really find something solid to touch. The tips of her fingers pressed against the smooth skin first, then her palm as she laid her entire hand against Tara's cheek.

Tara surprised herself by leaning into the touch and closing her eyes for a few moments. When Willow withdrew her hand, she felt its absence keenly.

Willow noticed that she left behind a small smear of her own blood atop the dirt that already encrusted the blonde's once flawless complexion. She stared at the red, her eyes going wide for a few moments.

"Tara…I'm still alive aren't I?"

"Captain Rosenberg?" Tara frowned at the tone in Willow's voice, child-like, pleading as though seeking reassurance from a parent.

"I mean, Dennis is dead…but I'm still alive," Willow had an image of the young man flash through her mind. "Poor little guy. He never did get his girl."

Willow's voice trailed off into nothing. Although no further words crossed her lips, her eyes said everything. She had the sudden realisation that she was still alive – it was made all the more apparent when she looked down at the hot, sticky blood gradually congealing on her arm. Her gaze lifted back to Tara. For some reason the blonde pilot was staring at her with a directness that Willow had not seen her show before. When Willow looked into that unnervingly sapphire gaze, she realised that she had never felt so alive in her life.

Wordlessly, Tara reached out and gently picked up Willow's hand in her own. Her fingers entwined with the redhead's, squeezing tightly as if to say _I'm here Willow, here with you._

Willow reached up her hand to cup Tara's cheek once more to reassure herself that she was still there and that this wasn't a dream. Her thumb caressed the grimy but still luxuriously soft skin. Her breath caught at the unspoken question clearly asked in Tara's eyes. She saw desire, longing and something else that she did not recognise. Willow could barely nod in response. It was just the barest movement of her head. The urgency in her eyes however spoke volumes where she could not.

Tara drew Willow up, surprising the redhead with her strength. In one swift movement Willow found herself face to face with Tara, their noses and foreheads pressed together as though they could not possibly be close enough. Willow found both her hands reaching up to cup Tara's cheeks, both thumbs stroking the strong lines of her jaw, her cheeks and finally her lips. Willow felt the soft, moist contours of Tara's lips beneath her touch. Tara's lips parted, she let out a hot breath that made Willow go weak at the knees.

Willow shivered as she felt Tara's hands moving on her back, there were so many layers separate their bare skin from one another and yet it felt as though the flight jacket, the sweater…none of it was there.

Tara closed her eyes, not needing them to enjoy Willow's beauty. She could smell her scent – sweet and mixed with sweat and oil. She could trace her body with her hands and feel her warm breath flowing over her lips. She brought her hands up to rest atop Willow's. Tara felt herself trembling uncontrollably and for a moment she was terrified that Willow would suddenly push her away. However, Willow moved her body closer, nudging against Tara's thigh with her pelvis, pressing her torso hard against hers. Tara knew that Willow could feel her fear. The redhead only responded with more tenderness. Tentatively, Tara quested out towards Willow's lips with her own. Her eyes were still closed but she could sense those moist lips just out of reach - just another millimetre.

Their lips brushed together – the merest feather-light touch. Tara startled herself even though Although Tara's body had been tensed in anticipation of the contact, she was startled at the jolt of energy. She pulled back a fraction and Willow responded by giving her space. Tara soon realised that, far from being scared, she was hungry for more. She licked her own lips as though she were afraid they wouldn't be quite moist enough before leaning in again. When she found Willow's lips again, she was struck by just how soft they were. Although her kisses were light and tentative, she did not pull away. Each touch was so light and brief that, had they been blown up on a cinema screen, it would have barely passed as kissing.

Yet it was enough for Willow to feel weak at the knees. It was painful torture. She wanted so much more - to be able to crush Tara against her, and to explore all of her wonderful mouth with a fierce, passionate intensity so that Tara would know how much she wanted and needed her. Yet Tara's shy kisses were in a class of their own, exquisite in their sincerity, in their desire to explore as though this was her first time.

_First time._

Willow drew back slowly, carefully so as not to make it seem too abrupt lest Tara think that she was doing something wrong. She moved her hands slowly from beneath Tara's. The blonde also let hers fall but not far. They came to rest around Willow's neck as though she was intent on making sure that the redhead wasn't going anywhere.

With both hands, Willow reached up and smoothed Tara's sweaty bangs back from her forehead so she could see into her blue eyes all the more clearly. She found there exactly what she thought she'd find. It was an innocence that took her breath away. With an ever increasing swelling in her gut, Willow realised that the brief kiss they had shared in her office a few days ago had been Tara's first. Why no one had ever taken this beautiful young woman into their arms and kissed her soundly, Willow could not fathom. She felt a sudden and overwhelming sense of responsibility. Although Tara's desires were spelt out plainly on her face, they were accompanied by a painful shyness that went with her inexperience. Terror followed the feeling of responsibility and Willow found herself wanting to run away and find the _Complete Illustrated How-to Guide for Lesbian Love-Making._

_There's no such book, you silly ninny!_ Willow chided herself inwardly and focused on Tara's eyes which were still looking into her own. A small amount of confusion was starting to creep in. Willow smoothed the blonde's hair back a second time before dropping her hands to cover Tara's cheeks. _You've been with women before, Rosenberg. Hell, there are tricks you could show her that would have her screaming right here in this stairwell…and…yes, you are a moron._

Willow stepped back but before Tara could even open her mouth, she picked up the blonde's hand in her own. She wordlessly led her down into the main hanger, full of bustling mechanics trying desperately to get the planes back in working order. They passed through welders grinding away at twisted metal, and armourers piling belt-loads of fresh ammunition into magazines. Willow saw it all and yet that wasn't what she was aware of. She felt Tara's hand in her own, the blonde following just behind her. She was also uncomfortably aware of the growing wetness between her legs. She bit her lip and tried to ignore her inward demands for release.

After what seemed hours and miles instead of minutes and metres, Willow shut the door to her office behind them. They had paused only long enough to wash the filth from their hands. Tara had glanced up at her shyly as she scrubbed the dirt from beneath her nails. It was almost a ritual of preparation – they both knew exactly what they were doing. Safely inside Willow's tiny office, the sounds in the hanger were dulled. Only thin slits of light filtered in through the grimy porthole but it was enough for Willow to see Tara's face clearly. She could see her well-defined cheek bones and liquid blue eyes. Her lips were slightly parted, whether in fear or anticipation Willow couldn't tell. She suspected that it was a little of both.

Once the door was shut, the tiny room seemed even smaller. It was as though Tara was sitting right in her lap instead of standing and fidgeting with her fingers at least a foot away. It was much too close, and yet too far away at the same time.

_I can't do this_, Willow had a momentary panic attack. _I barely even know her and __I'm taking advantage of her innocence…bad Willow. Oh bloody hell, she's so damn gorgeous._

Willow's internal babbling was cut abruptly short by the sight of Tara's lips moving closer towards hers. Her hands went up behind Willow's neck and ran through her hair in the moments just before their lips met again. At first it was hesitant but after a few moments, Willow allowed herself to deepen the kiss just a little. Tara sighed as her lips parted in response to Willow's insistent tongue. Her tongue entered Tara's mouth like a small child entering a candy store for the first time. So much to explore…and yet the comforting knowledge that everything was sweet and good. Her arms went up around Tara's back, hands searching, caressing.

Tara tentatively met Willow's tongue with her own, feeling a small shiver as they entwined and began a dance. It was a slow waltz at first - lazy strokes of exploration, fully tasting each other for the first time and savouring the experience.

It was Tara who increased the tempo when she sensed Willow's reluctance to take things any faster. She pushed her body more insistently against Willow's and thrust her tongue further and faster into the redhead's mouth. She felt hot and flushed all over. Both of them had too many clothes on. Tara found the collar of Willow's jacket with trembling hands and tried to tug it down over her shoulders. Obligingly, Willow shrugged out of it and it fell to the floor.

"Maclay-" Willow stopped herself. If they were going to do this, she could at least use her first name. "Tara," Willow whispered as Tara tugged at her sweater. "We should-"

"Permission to speak freely, Captain?" Tara interrupted her.

Willow was surprised by the unexpected question. "O-of course."

"Shut-up," Tara said brusquely, surprising both herself and Willow. Her face creased into a grin a second later, to which Willow responded with one of her own.

"Yes, ma'am," Willow whispered.

Then there followed a frantic few minutes as Willow stripped Tara's jacket from her shoulders. In mere moments, the pile of clothes on the floor had grown to include boots, grimy sweaters…pants, socks and leggings, chemises, all in one heap. Tara's hands went to the clasp on Willow's bra at the same time Willow went for the clasp on her own. In a frantic few seconds, the annoying scraps of fabric were tossed aside.

Willow buried her face in Tara's throat, breathing in her sweaty but still sweet scent, feeling the blonde's pulse pumping rapidly beneath her lips. Willow nudged her thigh between Tara's legs, forcing them to part for her as she ran her hand down over Tara's breasts, pausing to rub her palm over the already hard nipple. Her hands continued over her flat, hard stomach and disappeared beneath the band of her underwear. Tara moaned as Willow's hand continued downwards and she parted her legs even further of her own accord.

She gasped when Willow found her centre and entered gently. Just one finger drew along the length of her sex, once and then repeatedly until Tara was left craving more.

"I want…" her words trailed off and she guided Willow with an insistent thrust of her hips instead.

Nothing prepared her for the shock when Willow's finger found her clit. With firm strokes, Willow began teasing it back and forth. Tara bit her lip and responded in kind. She struggled to slip her own hand beneath Willow's underwear. Her movements were awkward, but Willow responded eagerly. She spread her thighs and gasped as Tara's hand dragged through her pubic hair.

Shifting her hips slightly for Tara, Willow had to force herself to concentrate on her own ministrations lest she lose herself to the exquisite sensations coursing through her body. She couldn't contain a small cry when Tara finally entered her wet sex.

Tara was terrified and yet there was something so familiar about all of this. The way Willow's naked body felt against her own, the way she smelt. She matched the strokes Willow was making between her own legs. Her only clue as to whether she was doing it correctly were Willow's laboured gasps between their frantic kisses. A harsh guttural moan was ripped from Tara's throat as Willow thrust two fingers deeply inside her. She cried out, gripping Willow's naked back fiercely. Tara felt her nails tear into the soft skin, yet if Willow felt it she didn't show any signs of pain. Her hips moved with Willow's insistent, pumping rhythm.

Tara had never been with another woman, but she had explored her own body. With Willow it was so very different from her own solitary pleasures. Everything was building towards a crescendo unlike any that she had experienced on her own. For a few moments she lost herself. Her eyes closed and her head went back as she let the sensations she was feeling wash over her.

However Tara desperately wanted Willow to come with her. She forced herself to concentrate. Ever so gently, she entered Willow's wet passage. In response, Willow whispered something incomprehensible in her ear. Inside it was so very wet and warm, Tara felt as though she were coming home.

Together, they matched their strokes, a rhythm that came naturally. At some point, they had to cease kissing in order to breathe. Tara was whimpering softly while Willow was more vocal, her cries were a beautiful sound filling Tara's ears, becoming more and more urgent as they rocked together.

It began gradually - a sense of being so very close to something wonderful. Tara buried her face in Willow's neck, stifling her cries by nuzzling hard against Willow's leaping pulse. Everything became so crystal clear despite the pleasurable haze she was enveloped in. She was with Willow, inside Willow. It felt like nothing she had ever experienced before. She heard Willow's cries close to her ear, urging her on without words, their hips and fingers moving frantically in those last final moments.

Willow suddenly arched her back and threw back her head. She cried out, somewhere far away she heard a matching cry that melted her flaming heart. She pressed so fiercely against Tara that she felt as though the blonde were melded to her.

Tara lifted her head, keeping Willow in her hazy focus the whole time. Her hand ran up the sweaty channel between Willow's breasts, around the back of her neck. With firm but gentle pressure she drew Willow back to her so she could see those green eyes. She almost felt like laughing in sheer delight at the new experience. Although fulfilling for an instant, bringing herself to orgasm often resulted in a strange emptiness. It went beyond being lonely. Tara had always known she was missing something. She had found it in the enigmatic redhead in her arms.

Willow blinked away the stars in front of her eyes. She felt the cold air on her sweaty back in direct contrast to the blistering heat she felt where her body was pressed against Tara's. For the first time she felt her hard desk beneath her, the edge biting into her buttocks. She could hear nothing except her rapidly beating heart in her chest and the combined rasp of their breathing in perfect synch. Willow brought her trembling hand up to stroke Tara's cheek.

Her own cheeks felt strangely damp. It wasn't until Tara reached up and wiped a finger just beneath her eye that Willow realised she was crying. A small sob escaping served to punctuate the realisation. She didn't feel weak, or pathetic, or childish. She felt…

Willow's lips barely moved as she whispered, "I love you."


	11. Lovers

**Chapter Eleven**  
**Lovers**

Tara felt Willow's tears wet on her thumb. She didn't have to ask herself why the woman in her arms was crying because of the lump in her own throat. Her eyes burned even as she struggled to appear composed about what had just happened between them. From the moment she had seen Willow Rosenberg, Tara had known exactly what it was to want someone so very badly and yet also know with absolutely certainty that you were never ever going to be able to have that person. If pigs could fly, only if hell froze over.

And then it had happened – a blissfully brief, slightly awkward tangle of sweaty bodies that culminated in Willow saying that she loved her. Tara fought the urge to gape at Willow like a gormless idiot. She tried in vain to conjure up a mildly intelligent reply but nothing came to mind. Instead she and made a mental note to look up next time she went outside to check for flying porkers.

For one perfect minute, the scene in front of her was perfect. Then everything shifted slightly when Willow suddenly realised what she had said in her post-coital bliss. Her green eyes went wide and she bit her lip.

"I really just said that didn't I?" she asked quietly. It was the best line she could come up with at short notice. Well, she could take it back, but that was the last thing she wanted._ I've known the woman for all of a few weeks and I'm already professing my love for her!_

"Y-you did," Tara replied awkwardly. She felt an odd churning in her gut. "We can forget you ever said it, if you like?"

_Is that what I want?_ Willow felt goosebumps prick her exposed skin but whether it was from the cold or Tara's suggestion she couldn't be entirely sure. While Tara's words said that she would not hold Willow to her confession, her eyes said something altogether different.

"Tara, I-I…" Willow did not know what to say. The world was falling down around them, millions of people were dead, and she had wanted so desperately to feel as though she was still alive. Sex with Tara had certainly achieved that, but it came with far more baggage than Willow was used to in her relationships. "There's a war on," she eventually said. The excuse was pathetic, even to her own ears.

"I understand," Tara replied.

The blonde's voice was strangely composed, even if her eyes said differently. She carefully began to extricate her limbs and Willow reluctantly let her go. Without the warmth of Tara's skin pressed against her own, she realised just how terribly cold it was in her office.

As Tara bent to retrieve her underwear, she managed an uneasy smile. "There is a war on…and the last thing I want is to die a virgin. Thank you, Captain Rosenberg."

Willow's eyes suddenly went as wide as saucers. She hopped down off her desk, making no attempt to cover up as she reached for Tara. Gently but insistently, she took one of Tara's hands in her own and pulled her back to her feet.

"Tara, I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that this was…" Willow paused as she fumbled for the right words. She cupped Tara's cheeks in the palms of her hands so the blonde could not duck her head as she was want to do. "That this was just a fuck. I don't know how to explain it without sounding like I've gone completely barking mad, but from the moment I saw you I felt a…connection. It had nothing to do with sex, well, a little bit because you're bloody gorgeous and I'd be lying if I said I didn't sneak a peek at your tits that one time-" Another pause as she drew in a deep breath to collect her scattered thoughts. "I felt a connection to you Tara Maclay, I don't understand it, but whatever it is, it's powerful…and I know you feel it too."

"Has anyone ever told you that you babble?" Tara asked quietly.

"Constantly," Willow replied. "Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned the part about your tits, and maybe I'm not making any sense-"

"W-Willow," Tara did her best to interrupt the redhead. "I-I do feel it."

"You do?" Willow asked incredulously. _I'm not going mad!_ "And I think that I meant what I said. Even though I've only known you for a short time. I just didn't expect that - in the middle of all of this - I would find the place where I enjoy being most of all."

Tara allowed herself to be drawn closer to Willow. She loved the feel of being in the redhead's arms, so she went willingly, melting into her. With her mouth pressed against Willow's throat she asked, "Where?"

"With you," Willow said as she slid a shaking hand down Tara's body to her thigh.

She continued until her hand had once again found the warmth between Tara's legs, delving into it eagerly. She heard Tara moan low in her throat. Willow pressed her back towards the desk, lowering her onto it so Tara could open herself up to her touch. As one hand caressed the sensitive skin between Tara's legs, Willow brought her other hand up to cup Tara's cheek. She ran her thumb over Tara's moist lips.

There was a sudden and very sharp rap on the door. Both pilots were surprised beyond measure and Willow jerked away from Tara so suddenly that she walked into the filing cabinet behind her. An audible crash followed this brought a stack of binders crashing down to the deck.

"Captain Rosenberg?" It was XO Dempster. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Willow replied quickly. While her first instinct should have been finding some scrap of clothing to cover herself with, instead she scrambled back to her feet to check that Tara was okay.

"Are you sure?" Tad asked with a worried tone. "You didn't look so great when you landed…have you seen the doc yet?"

Willow heard the tell-tale creak of the latch on the door. "Fuck! Dempster, don't you dare open that door!" she spluttered hastily.

"Okay, backing away from the door," Tad replied in a confused tone. "It's just that Boone wants to see you in his briefing room ASAP."

"I'll be there," Willow replied, her heart no longer trying to escape her chest. Her hand sought out Tara's and their fingers entwined.

There was the sound of a few footsteps retreating from the door. Then they stopped. There was a slight shuffling and, unless Willow was mistaken, a quiet clearing of the throat.

"He'd like to see Flying Officer Maclay as well," Tad said in a small voice. That announcement was followed by what sounded like very quick footsteps moving away from the door, breaking into a run after a few seconds.

Tara let out the breath she had been holding and gave Willow's hand a quick squeeze. Before she started the rather depressing task of putting her clothes back on, she started running her hands over Willow's naked body.

"Willow!" Tara found a deep gash in Willow's upper arm. Dried blood was crusted around the wound, but it had opened again at some point and was bleeding profusely. Tara climbed down from the desk to find something clean to press against the wound. "How on earth did you not notice this?"

"Well, it didn't hurt before and I had my mind on…other things." Willow winced as she probed at the cut. "I have a medical kit; it's in the bottom drawer of my desk."

Without bothering to put any clothes on, Tara found the kit and began rummaging through it. In a professional manner, she began cleaning the cut, ignoring protests from Willow when the iodine stung.

"I think you should put off seeing Boone until you've had this looked at," Tara said as she began winding the bandage firmly around Willow's wound. "I think you might need stitches."

"We sleep together once and you're already telling me what to do?" Willow picked up her pants and stood shakily. "I'll be fine. Hopefully it won't take long...whatever it is that Boone wants."

* * *

Boone looked up as Willow and Tara entered his briefing room. Willow could have sworn he smirked slightly but it was gone in a flash, replaced by his usual scowl. The two officers were surprised, and relieved, to see that they weren't the only ones that had been summoned. Buffy, Dempster and a few other senior officers were all seated around. Every pair of eyes was trained on the two of them. If looks could kill, Buffy's gaze would have had drawn and quartered Willow in a heartbeat. Willow met it evenly. There was no chance that Buffy knew what had happened between her and Tara – not yet anyway.

For a few moments Willow was angry at herself for not having thought to stagger their arrivals. It just made things all the more obvious and before long the entire ship…no, the entire fleet, would know that they were an item. This feeling however, lasted only until Willow had the guts to turn and look at Tara. The blonde was already staring at her, nothing but sincere emotion in her gaze.

_So I just had sex with another officer…an officer who happens to be the best looking woman on board, they're just jealous…and I, well I am the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole fucked up world. _Willow barely resisted the urge to smile smugly at them all.

Tara took a seat and Willow deliberately sat in the chair right next to her. She let her leg slip sideways slightly so that her thigh pressed ever so slightly against Tara's knee.

"Glad to see you two could grace us with your respective presences," Boone said loftily before returning his gaze to the papers that lay in front of him. "We need to make for port…"

"With all due respect Commander," a naval officer interrupted. "The net has functioned beyond all our expectations. We have ample provisions…do you really think that it is wise to endanger the fleet by returning to England?"

"The net has functioned beyond all expectations," Boone agreed, but he dismissed their most valuable asset as though it were of no consequence. "However, if you've noticed this war is not going to be fought on the sea but in the air…and, unless you're blind and deaf, you would know that so far our air support has been cut to ribbons!"

"With all due respect, sir!" Buffy and Willow said the same words at precisely the same moment.

Boone cut them both off with an abrupt slashing motion with his hand. The two squadron captains looked at one another briefly before turning their attention back to Boone who was taking it in turn to glare at them both.

"In just two engagements our losses stand at five planes destroyed and three pilots dead - and this from the two best squadrons in Air Command. I'd say those were heavy losses, Captains." Both Buffy and Willow nodded grudgingly. "Maclay and Rosenberg here are the only pilots who have had the pleasure of shooting down the bastards. Now, any ideas on why they're so damn hard to hit?"

"They're too fast," Willow replied quickly. It was obvious.

"And they turn on a dime. I was exceptionally lucky," Tara said a little quieter and more subdued at speaking up within a group.

"You weren't lucky, Maclay!" Boone snapped back. "You were bloody brilliant."

Willow nudged Tara's knee with her own.

"So it's clear we have the pilots and the guts but not the technology or the knowledge about our new enemy. If we lose the skies…well, then it's over isn't it? And I for one am not a quitter. Therefore, we continue on our northbound course and make for port."

"Sir?" Buffy asked with a frown on her face.

It was clear everyone in the room save Boone was thinking exactly the same thing. There was no land formation of any significance on their present course save for the frozen North.

"Questions will be answered when we arrive. I estimate by 1030 hours tomorrow so you can all save your questions until tomorrow. I have my orders from the top gentlemen…and ladies that will be all."

Everyone stood and saluted smartly, save Willow who remained fast in her chair. Tara looked down to see the red head's skin had turned a very pale shade indeed.

"Rosenberg!" Boone barked so violently that spit landed very close to her boots.

Willow's head jerked up, she had barely realised that she had almost drifted out of consciousness and started to slide from the chair onto the floor. She felt incredibly light-headed.

"Maclay, since you two seem to have formed such a close attachment, you will not mind escorting Captain Rosenberg to sick bay…before she starts to bleed all over my floor."

Willow was about to snap a very imprudent reply when she fell right out of the chair. She lost consciousness before her face hit the floor.

* * *

"Well, this is a strange room!" Willow said as she threw her jacket on the floor and plopped onto the bed.

She was back in the quarters that she shared with Tara. She flexed her arm and winced as the seven stitches pulled slightly. She had been light headed from the loss of blood earlier but now she felt well enough to be right back in the air…or perhaps it was the cocktail of painkillers that the doc had fed her. Tara entered just behind her, closing the small door quietly and hanging her own jacket up on a wall peg.

"You did seem to have a distinct aversion to it for a few days," Tara said with a trace of humour in her voice, she sniffed the air. "It does smell a little like old socks and wet clothing so I could see why."

"I was an idiot…I'm sorry," Willow mumbled.

"You were an idiot," Tara replied bluntly, a too-serious look on her face for a few moments until she broke into a dazzling smile that would have knocked Willow's socks off had she actually been wearing any. "But I was a bigger one…I loved you before I-" _Don't say you loved her before you even knew her Maclay…what kind of psycho is she going to think you are? _"I loved you the moment I first saw you, sitting right where you are now…except for the expression everything is the same…oh, and the fact that you're all grubby and you have stitches in your arm."

Willow grinned and stood up, crossing the floor to wrap her arms around Tara's waist. "I'm going to have a shower. Flying Officer Maclay I highly suggest you take one too. You're starting to smell more than a little ripe."

"If I do it's your fault," Tara leaned into Willow, kissing her neck and smelling nothing but Willow, an aroma that reminded her of strawberries, albeit mixed in with rather rank sweat.

Willow raised Tara's chin between her thumb and forefinger and began laying kisses along her jawline.

"Ah, Willow," Tara murmured between slow kisses.

Willow pulled back slightly, "Yeah?"

"I think we ought to shower separately, or else we'll never get clean."

Half an hour later Willow and Tara lay curled together in Willow's bunk. First and foremost, the pair of them were scrubbed clean to the point of being pink. Willow ran her hand over Tara's still damp hair. Tara closed her eyes and sighed softly.

"W-what happened?" Tara asked out of the blue.

Willow frowned. "What do you mean? When?"

"About two hours ago…and please don't tell me that I was so appallingly bad that you've forgotten it already," Tara replied indignantly.

Willow's eyebrows shot up into her hair and she moved quickly to make amends. "Oh God no…don't be silly…I mean, not in a million years would I ever…I mean…oh, just forget me, I'm a moron!"

Willow clamped her jaw shut for a few moments, forcing herself to reassess Tara's seemingly simple question. A small frown creased her brow as she tried to figure out what Tara had meant before she opened her mouth once more. She eventually gave up and replied honestly.

"We made love," Willow said softly. "It wasn't just a fuck…it was definitely making love. I don't think I've ever made love before. I mean, there has been plenty of fucking, not plenty because I sound like a-"

Tara knew by instinct that Willow was working herself up into full babble mode and that she really ought to stop her with a gentle word. Tara didn't say anything however, she loved listening to Willow talking more than any other sound in the entire world. Willow was still trying to explain what she had meant by 'plenty.' "There have been a few women over the years because I like the ladies…but when I said plenty I didn't mean-"

Willow brought her hand up to her mouth and clamped it down as hard as she could. Tara wasn't quite sure whether to giggle or just keep her own mouth shut. She settled for prising Willow's hand away from her mouth gently to reveal a very apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry that you had to wait this long to find out that I'm barking mad and that I'm a bit of a slut," Willow mumbled.

"Willow," Tara cupped the red head's cheek with her palm. "You're neither of those things…a-and that wasn't quite what I meant when I asked you what happened. Yesterday and for the entire time we've known each other, I thought you hated me. I don't know why exactly, perhaps because I'm a Slayer…or maybe that I was weird or that you were still angry at having to share your cabin with a junior officer."

"I never hated you, not once, not even when you announced you were sharing my cabin, I hated Boone and Buffy and just about everyone else that was conspiring to make my life miserable…but not you. You were always in a class of your own, a mystery to be solved," Willow peered into those blue eyes and still couldn't fathom out what they held, despite the intimacy they had shared. "At first, I just wanted to get you into the sack."

Tara laughed lightly, sparing Willow any embarrassment at her admission.

"Then I came to realise that this was different. We kissed and it was the most wonderful kiss I've ever had…but you ran out of there as though I repulsed you. I responded the only way I knew how…avoidance and then everything turned to an even bigger pile of shit when you saw me coming out of Tad's cabin," Willow drew in a deep breath. "Then, it was like none of that mattered anymore….after our first engagement…after what happened with Alex and Dennis, I realised how incredibly stupid all of this is. Being invaded by something we can barely fight! Not knowing half the time where we're going…if we're even going anywhere. We could be facing the end of the world and I was having trouble telling this amazing woman that I loved her," Willow paused, sniffing back those annoying tears once more. Tara obligingly wiped them away for her with a light flick of her thumb. "Everything became clear - I was alive, you were right there holding me…we had sex and…I said I love you. It felt so right."

"It was," Tara agreed in a whisper, planting a light kiss on Willow's forehead.

"Tara, can I ask you something personal?" Willow asked quietly.

Tara looked at her with a serious expression on her face and an even more serious tone in her voice, "Willow, two hours ago we were having sex in your office, I think you should be able to ask me anything."

Willow nuzzled Tara's nose, and kissed her luxuriously for a few seconds, running her tongue over Tara's lips before drawing back, "Why was I the first? I mean, I don't understand how someone like you could were still a-a…"

Tara nodded imperceptibly. "It's kind of a long story…and I want to tell you-"

_You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to make love to me Willow Rosenberg,_ Tara thought as she remembered night after night of dreaming about the young red head. Holding her naked body close in her arms, feeling the smooth expanse of Willow's skin beneath her fingers, smelling the comforting aroma of their love making in the air…and yet always knowing that it was all about to be torn apart. Every night she would look forward to the sensations of being in Willow's embrace despite knowing how it would always end.

"But not right now?" Willow finished for her.

Tara sighed sadly and Willow drew her closer, running her hands around Tara's back.

"You must think I'm rather odd. I'm twenty-three and I've never felt attracted to anyone, man or woman, until I saw you." _How can I tell you how long I've known you…without really knowing you? _"I couldn't get you out of my thoughts even though I really knew next to nothing about you - except that you fly as though you were born to it."

"What else do you want to know about me?" Willow asked, fully prepared to divulge every last childhood secret.

"Well, you know my first kiss…" Tara trailed off leaving an unspoken questioning hanging in the air.

"I was fourteen, and it was with Geraldine Gibbs in the back row of a movie theatre," Willow started to giggle, "For almost six months we went to the movies every Saturday for the matinee and spent the whole show making out. I went to see so many movies without ever actually seeing a single one."

Tara raised her eyebrows playfully. "You spent a half a year just making out?" Her voice sounded a little dubious.

"Well, I had my hand up her shirt once but then the usher came along with a flashlight and almost caught us," Willow smiled fondly in remembrance. "Gerry and her family emigrated to New Zealand of all places. We wrote letters for about a year and then just sort of lost contact you know," Willow shrugged. "So, anything else?"

"Just one last one for tonight. I-I…w-want to k-know…" Tara swallowed slowly. "I want to know if you can handle anything else as well as you can handle your plane?"

The look on Tara's face was one of sultry innocence. Willow wasn't even sure if the blonde actually knew she was doing it or if she actually knew just how crazy it was making her feel.

"I didn't prove that to you already?" Willow asked, feeling her blood pumping through her veins faster by the second.

"I think I need some more proof, you know, just to be sure."

Willow rolled Tara over and moved to straddle her, loving the feeling of Tara's body beneath hers. She lowered herself down so they were pressed together, breasts to breasts, stomach to stomach, pelvis to pelvis and slowly…mouth to mouth.

Their lips met, taking time to re-discover one another's taste. Their tongues stroked together lazily, each savoured every thrusting together of tongues. Willow nudged her thigh between Tara's legs and began rubbing slowly. With a gasp, Tara's thighs fell further apart, she hungrily thrust her hips up to meet Willow.

"Tara…" Willow wasn't sure she could stop kissing Tara long enough to actually get a sentence out, "There's…just…one thing…I'm wondering…"

"Wha…?" Tara asked breathlessly.

Willow drew back a second, "Why on earth did we bother putting any clothes on?"

Tara lay completely naked beneath an equally naked Willow, a single blanket draped over them both. Somehow now it was different, she felt extremely self-conscious as though this time she realised exactly what she was doing. Oh, she had known full well that she was making love to Willow earlier but that was all she had been thinking about. Now a million thoughts were running through her head, foremost of all was _do you even know this girl? You've waited twenty-three years to have sex and you choose to do it with someone you barely know…someone your friends despise!_

However, all Tara had to do was look into Willow's eyes to know that she knew everything she needed to know about Willow - for now anyway. And she knew she felt as safe as it was possible to be in the midst of a war.

Willow smoothed back her hair from her brow, a few damp strands clinging stubbornly that she had to pry away individually.

"Are you alright?" Willow asked in a whisper.

"A little scared I guess…I feel kind of…exposed."

"Well…you are naked," Willow frowned, unsure if Tara was joking or not.

Tara tried to laugh but it came out forced. "I am indeed…but that's not quite what I mean. There's nothing between us…no barriers. I just feel like all my defences are down and I'm scared that I won't be able to put them back up if I need to."

"There's somewhere you want to keep me out of?" Willow asked, worry and hesitation creeping into her voice.

"N-no…it's just that, I'm not sure if I'm ready to let you all the way in yet."

Tara was scared she had ruined the mood, that was until Willow propped herself up on her elbows and gazed down at her. There was no judgement in her soft gaze. Then she lowered her head and deposited the barest of kisses on Tara's lips.

"Well," Willow said. "You have nothing to worry about…because I won't take any more of you than what you offer me."

Willow lowered her lips to Tara's once more, caressing her sensitive flesh with light kisses. Gradually she deepened the kiss, until the point where she felt bold enough to slide her tongue into Tara's mouth. By the time Willow drew back both their lips were red and swollen. They stared into each other's eyes for a few silent moments.

Tara slowly and tentatively brought one hand down over Willow's shoulder to touch one of her firm breasts. Her touches were light as though she was unsure of herself. She gently caressed and rubbed the little bud at the peak of Willow's breast between her fingers. It blossomed and hardened beneath her touch, Willow let out a small sharp breath before moving her hand to meet the one that was intently caressing her breast. Willow enfolded Tara's hand in her own, caressing the slender digits with her own before gently levering it away from her breast and back against the pillow and holding it there. She did the same with the other one and Tara was lying with both hands above her head, a confused look on her face.

"Sorry," Tara whispered. "I know I'm doing it all wrong…"

"No, Tara…you're not doing anything wrong," Willow nuzzled Tara's cheek with her cold nose. "I just want to do this…for you. I want to show you how beautiful you are," Willow kissed Tara's cheek and then her nose, she moved up and kissed her forehead, all the while keeping both of Tara's hands above her head. She pulled back and looked down at the flushed blonde. "Do you trust me?"

Tara could only nod but that was all the encouragement that Willow needed. Willow slowly drew her hands away from Tara's and still the blonde kept hers above her head. With her hands now free to roam Willow sat up while still straddling Tara's hips, the blanket slipped from them both and fell to the floor but neither felt the cold. Willow gazed down at Tara lying beneath her, hands above her head, beautiful breasts standing proud in the light of the weak light bulb.

Her breath caught in her throat as she tentatively caressed Tara's face with feathery strokes before running her hands downwards - over her shoulders to her upper arms and back up again in sensuous circles. She traced her collarbone and the pale skin between her breasts before finally taking a handful of breast with each hand. She massaged gently at first but all the while increasingly in tempo and pressure until both of Tara's nipples were swollen and red. It wasn't until then that Willow leaned forward, bringing her mouth down on top of the right breast first. Tara gasped as Willow began working it over in her mouth, taking as much as she could in and sucking fiercely. She teased Tara's nipple with her tongue, rolling it around gently before biting on it gently. When she shifted over and performed her ministrations on the other breast, she finally began to hear almost imperceptible noises of encouragement from the shy blonde.

Slowly, but inevitably, Willow moved downwards. As she moved, she left behind a trail of moist kisses – over Tara's abdomen, around her naval and her stomach. As her mouth worked, she brought both hands down to the inside of Tara's upper thighs and gently levered them apart with a little pressure.

The bed was all too narrow and Tara ended up with one knee jammed against the cold bulkhead on one side of the bed. The other leg fell from the bed altogether, her foot resting on the floor. It was cold but what Willow was doing to her made her warmer than she had ever felt in her life.

"Are you alright?" Willow asked softly.

"More than alright," Tara replied.

With Tara's legs spread before her face, Willow could smell the familiar and sweet aroma of her desire. When she kissed Tara's honey coloured curls, she jumped slightly beneath her touch. She moved downwards until her head was between Tara's thighs. Although she was growing slightly impatient, she forced herself to move slowly. She took the time to kiss the insides of her thighs. Finally she brought both hands up to Tara's sex and spread her lips back tenderly.

"Willow…please." Tara's eyes were closed. Her mouth parted in anticipation.

Willow obliged by dipping her head into the wonderful warmth. She just breathed in Tara's scent for a few moments before finally caressing her sex in one long, languid stroke.

In response, Tara gave voice to what she was feeling as she cried out in a throaty moan. She unconsciously pumped her hips toward Willow's mouth and a second stroke followed. Each touch became an exploration - a new and unique experience in itself. Willow had avoided concentrating on Tara's clit at first, content to explore everywhere else around it. Tara's hips continued to move beneath her insistently as she searched for that contact. Willow finally gave in. She began teasing it with her tongue and rolling it between her lips. As her tongue worked Tara's clit over, she moved one of her hands to tease gently at the entrance to Tara's cunt. She gently pried apart her opening and thrust one finger inside. Tara cried out as her hips thrust up onto Willow's finger, forcing it in as far as it would go. Willow soon added a second, prising it up alongside the first.

With Willow's fingers and tongue both working frantically, the cries coming from Tara's throat becoming increasingly raw and urgent –albeit muffled as best she could. Her hands had left their spot above her head and were now tangled in Willow's hair, forcing her head down harder.

Suddenly there it was. Tara was crying out her name for the last time in one long, drawn out moan as her back arched from the bed. The walls of her passage spasmed delightfully around Willow's fingers. She stroked a few more times before concentrating solely on licking up every last drop of split moisture.

After what seemed like forever, Tara finally came back to earth. Her body relaxed and she became aware of the thin mattress beneath her. The cold was starting to creep back into her limbs and she shivered. This latest for only a moment before Willow swept the blankets up from the floor and pulled them over the pair of them.

Willow laid her arm across Tara's chest and propped her chin up on it. For a few moments she was content to just stare before temptation got the better of her and she laid a soft kiss on the blonde's lips.

Tara tasted herself on Willow's lips. She kissed the red head lazily before Willow laid her cheek against Tara's chest, practically purring. "That was…amazing," Tara said softly, kissing the top of Willow's head.

"You'll have plenty of opportunities to pay me back," Willow hinted, a drowsy contentment in her voice.

Wrapping her arms around the young woman, Tara held her close as she ran her hands gently over her naked back. She heard Willow gasp slightly in pain and frowned as she felt a rough scratch on the red head's otherwise silky skin. Tara sat up slightly and peered under their blankets to see several angry looking scratches on Willow's back…fingernail shaped scratches. Tara blinked before realising that they were the result of their earlier frantic love making in Willow's office.

"Oh god…I'm so sorry," Tara whispered.

Willow looked up at her with a soft expression. "Battle scars to be worn with pride. Pull the blankets back up would you? It's incredibly chilly."

Tara winced sheepishly and tucked the rough woollen blankets carefully around Willow. Her hand then drifted up to lay on the smooth, red hair, stroking repeatedly.

"Will? Do people call you that?" Tara asked with a frown.

"Yeah…just about everyone." Willow shrugged. "Except my superiors and people who don't like me very much…and you, unless you also fit into the pre-existing category of people who don't like me very much?"

Tara arched an eyebrow. "Depends who you've been talking to?"

Willow laughed. "Well, I'll just leave it up to your own good judgement then."

"I like Will – it's short and sweet…like you."

"I am not short!" Willow protested, digging Tara in the ribs. "And I'm certainly not sweet!"

"Shorter than me at least," Tara replied quite calmly.

Willow scrambled to try and get over Tara and out of the bunk. "Let's test that then shall we? Come on, stand back to back."

Tara just smiled and wrapped her arms tightly around Willow's waist so she couldn't move. After a few moments of hopeless struggling Willow gave up and collapsed against Tara with a light giggle. It was much too cold to extract themselves from the tiny bunk. Both women settled for curling their limbs against one another. Willow rolled onto her side, snugging the blanket up under her chin with her small fist. Tara spooned Willow from behind, sliding her arm around her waist and drawing the slender pilot as close as possible. She tucked her chin against Willow's neck.

"Will…I know it's a little awkward, but…I-I love you too."

In response, one of Willow's hands sought out Tara's. She prised the hand up and knitted their fingers together, squeezing tightly. Both women were so extremely content and warm that a drowsy state was induced very quickly.

"Please…stay with me," Tara added in the barest whisper.

It was said so softly that Willow only realised she hadn't dreamt it when Tara's arm tightened around her waist. "I'm not going anywhere."


	12. Of Guardians and Angels

**Chapter Twelve  
Of Guardians and Angels**

It was the same as every other morning. Willow was aware of her surroundings before she had even properly woken. She was warm, blissfully so. Gradually she shrugged off the last vestiges of sleep and prised open her eyelids. The cabin she shared with Tara came into hazy view. Eventually she was aware of the blankets tucked fast around her naked skin. They created a rough, coarse feeling all over her body except her back where she felt a heavenly silky surface pressed against her. Everything was so very familiar. She was waking up warm, in someone's arms. It was too familiar. Willow's eyes shot wide open.

_I'm dreaming!_

Willow rolled out of the arms that held her and fell with a painful thud on the ice cold floor. She scrambled the short distance to the corner of the room and curled into the tightest ball she possibly could. As she rocked backwards and forwards she kept repeating over and over,

"It's a dream…it's a dream."

Tara was woken by the sound Willow made as she fell out of bed. The blonde prised her sleep encrusted eyes open and peered around in the darkness. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw a Willow-shaped outline huddled in the corner of their room. As she came to wakefulness, she felt the empty warm spot beside her and sat up. It was Willow. She rocked back and forth, her arms huddled around her naked body,

"It's a dream!" she kept saying in a small, insistent voice as though she were wishing desperately that she could wake.

Tara wasted no time, swinging her feet to the floor she grabbed one of their blankets and threw it over the pair of them as she knelt on the floor next to Willow. The red head refused to look up at her. She just squeezed her eyes shut even tighter.

"Willow!" Tara said insistently, grabbing her by the shoulders to stop her rocking.

Willow finally looked up at her, eyes wide with surprise. Then her expression changed, it became determined. Her jaw set stubbornly.

"You're not real, go away so I can wake up!" she said through gritted teeth.

Tara blinked, worried. "Uh, Willow, you are awake. Would we be freezing our arses off on the floor if this was a dream?"

Willow shook her head rapidly. She did not want to listen to any explanation that Tara could offer, especially when she did not believe that this Tara was real. "Hot, cold…blood, it doesn't matter, I can feel it all…if it's a dream, then how can I feel it all?"

Tara knew each of those feelings all too well in her own dreams…but how could Willow? She was just an ordinary young woman with ordinary dreams, easily forgotten in the morning. Yet, as she reached out and tilted Willow's chin up so she could stare into her eyes, the frightened expression she found there told her otherwise.

_It's not what you're thinking, Maclay, that's impossible. Then, why do I have this feeling that it is exactly what I am thinking?_

Tara hoped fervently that she was wrong but even before the question had met Willow's ears she knew what the answer would be. "Willow, what happens in your dream…can you tell me?"

Willow looked sceptical, still refusing to face reality. However, something in Tara's eyes was slowly eating away at her fear and doubt. "At first…there is nothing except a feeling of warmth and I know I'm really happy. Then there are other sensations, I feel a woman lying behind me, holding me tightly, close. I smell her and the sex we had the night before…although I never remember it. When I first started having the dream I didn't know who she was but I know now that it's you. I wake up and we're lying in bed just like we were just now. You're holding me and everything is absolutely perfect," Willow sighed before saying in a small, childlike voice. "I like that part."

"What happens next?" Tara asked in a blank voice, feeling a growing ache in her stomach.

"You die," Willow choked. "It's always different…but it's the same result every time."

"My god," Tara said softly, her fingers digging into Willow's skin as though someone were telling her to let go but she was refusing with all her might.

Willow finally believed that this wasn't her dream after all. "What?"

"That's not your dream, Willow. It's my dream."

Willow frowned. "B-but…I don't understand. I'm having your dreams?"

"Something like that," Tara replied quietly.

"How…Tara, I don't understand."

"I-I…" Tara stumbled over her choice of words. _You're not supposed to say anything. Don't you dare say a word to her, not a word! But it's Willow…oh god…Willow…it can't be happening to her as well._ Tara swallowed the painful lump in her throat. "I don't understand either."

Tara wrapped her arms around Willow and drew her against her body so they could share as much warmth as possible. She closed her eyes and rested her chin atop Willow's head. The redhead seemed to relax with a small sigh. Tara only allowed herself to relax when it became apparent that Willow did not realise she had lied to her.

After they had sat together in an awkward silence for far too long Willow had finally managed to face the fact that she was not only freezing cold but absolutely starving.

"My arse is starting to freeze to the floor," Willow announced suddenly.

Tara finally realised that she had been reluctant to let Willow out of her arms. "We should eat."

The two of them dressed hastily – throwing their clothes on to combat against the cold. When they made their way down to the mess hall, the smell of bacon wafted out to greet them before they even walked through the door.

Both girls paused before they entered. Willow looked at Tara and Tara nodded with a small smile. Her hand reached out and folded itself into Willow's, their fingers entwined for just a second and a brief squeeze. Before they walked into the mess, they let their hands fall apart. Side by side they walked into the mess hall. Willow sighed to see that the Slayers and the Devils had taken their traditional places on either side of the mess hall.

"W-what should we do?" Tara asked as they watched ladles of powdered eggs being spooned onto their trays.

Willow looked longingly at the single piece of bacon on her tray, then over her shoulder at the tables behind her. She could see Alex waving to indicate that he'd saved her a seat. However she turned her back on the rest of the Devils and chose a to sit at the end of a table as far away from their respective squadrons as it was possible to be in the mess. Silence descended in the wake of their decision. Although other officer's continued to talk, the two most raucous groups in the room were utterly silent. As they sat and ate, Willow was all too aware of the sound of cutlery scraping against tin plates.

Several minutes later Willow heard the sound of a chair being scraped across the deck. It was followed by determined footsteps as someone walked towards them. When a shadow fell over their table Willow did not need to look up to know that it was Buffy standing above her. She could already picture her. The Slayer's hands would be on her hips and her feet planted apart as though she meant business. Willow tried to concentrate on her powdered eggs and yet all the while she was aware of Buffy's dagger-like gaze knifing into her. .

All the while Willow continued to shovel food into her mouth and she kept a running internal monologue as she weighed up her options. _Just don't say anything, Will. Stay in your seat. Mmm, these powdered eggs are fantastic. What are you kidding? They taste like horse shit. What kind of coward are you that you would sit here while Buffy stares you down?_

Eventually the little devil on her shoulder triumphed. Willow threw down her knife and fork and stood. She threw her chair backwards with one hand and it clattered down the narrow aisle in front of the servery. As Willow planted her feet firmly in front of the other Captain, Buffy's expression was everything she had pictured it to be and more. She refused to give her an inch of space as she stood so close that their toes were almost touching. In the background she was dimly aware of Tara rising to her feet. Unlike Willow's dramatic gesture, the quiet blonde barely made a sound as she stood.

"Will?"

Tara's desperate sounding whisper barely registered in Willow's mind. She remained focused on Buffy. Almost every other pilot in the room had at some stage moved to surround them. The Devils were lined up on one side, Slayers on the other. Neither Willow nor Buffy were aware of the palpable tension in the room around them, they only had eyes for one another. Neither would back down from the stare first.

Tara was just on the other side of the table and yet she felt as though a gulf were separating her from Willow and Buffy. From her vantage point she could almost see the tension in the air and reach out to slice it with a knife. She had to fight the urge to move around the table and pull Willow away from Buffy. The scenario unfolded perfectly in her mind. She would restrain Willow with a gentle touch and the calamity would be averted before it had a chance to unfold. However, there was a tiny part of her that doubted the power of her hold over Willow. She had to face the fact that she still knew very little about Willow. Besides the fact that she was gorgeous, a talented pilot and a wonderful lover, Tara had only a small inkling as to how Willow would react to any given situation.

_Willow please…it's not worth it_. Tara wished she had the courage to say it out loud but she could barely even say her name in a quiet whisper. "Will?" _Come on, back down…this isn't you_. Tara didn't even want to admit that, for all the closeness they had shared over the past day and their lovemaking, she didn't know if this was the real Willow or not.

"What is your problem, Summers?" Willow hissed angrily. _Just step back. Tara wants you to…but I'm doing this for her!_

"My problem?" Buffy asked angrily, she hit Willow in the chest with the palm of her hand with such force that Willow stumbled back into the table. Behind her, the tray holding her breakfast skidded across the table and clattered to the ground. "My problem is with your inability to keep your hands to yourself!"

"What?" Willow had very quickly regained her poise, adopting an even more aggressive stance with her fists clenched at her side.

"You heard me clear enough Rosenberg!" Buffy spat. "You are incapable of keeping your hands to yourself. Do you have any real feelings for her or is all of this just to get back at me?"

Willow blinked, a little shocked before she regained her composure. "That's none of your business!"

The extent of Buffy's anger caught her off guard. She had known that a relationship with Tara would piss her old friend off, but she acted as though it was all about her. There was nothing she could do to change the past, and Buffy was just going to have to accept that fact. It was however very difficult to think rationally in the fact of the blonde's fury.

"You're a fucking whore, Rosenberg!"

In the heat of the moment Willow completely forgot Buffy had always been far better with her fists. Willow gritted her teeth and launched herself at Buffy with both fists swinging. Her first blow slammed into Buffy's left jaw but the second glanced off her shoulder as the smaller woman twisted to avoid it. She only managed to get in that first blow before Buffy fully laid into her. Willow barely had time to think about avoiding the blows before they hit. One blow landed squarely on her jaw, rendering her entire vision almost black. Willow found herself falling backwards over a table. It tipped and sent her crashing to the ground. She lay, seeing stars and feeling quite sore all over before Buffy grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, hauling her roughly to her feet.

Angrily, Willow yanked herself out of Buffy's grasp and raised her fists in a classic boxing pose. The heroic image ruined by the fact that she was staggering like a drunkard. Blood flowed freely from a cut that had opened above her eye but Willow was not about to throw in the towel. With an animalistic growl she dove at Buffy, wrapping both arms around her waist as she threw all her weight into a rugger tackle. Buffy went flying backwards, smashing the back of her head on a chair before she landed with Willow on top of her. Willow drew her fist back to finally get in her second blow only to have Buffy catch it, twisting her wrist painfully backwards. Deftly, the blonde shifted her weight and rolled Willow on to her back to reverse their positions. Whilst keeping Willow pinned, Buffy drove blow after blow into her face. Willow would not utter a word to admit her defeat, nor would Buffy let up with her beating. It was as though she had been waiting for the last five years to let out all of this pent up rage towards Willow. However, once it was unleashed, she found she could not stop. The monster refused to be reigned in.

Buffy did not realise just how angry she was until she felt a hand close over hers as she raised it for yet another blow. She hissed angrily and tried to shake it off so she could get back to pounding Willow's face in. The hand holding hers back just tightened and she angrily looked over her shoulder to see Tara standing there with the most resolute expression on her face that Buffy had ever seen.

"You've had enough, Captain Summers," Tara said in a low, steady voice.

Buffy was about to say, 'or else what?' when she realised who she was saying it to. Tara stepped back, giving her room as she climbed off Willow. She stood slowly and looked back down at the bloody pilot lying on the floor, staring back up at her through very glazed eyes.

Her gaze turned back to Tara. "You don't know her-"

"Don't even start Buffy!" she said in an angry tone. "This is what I want…can't you let me have it?"

"I know you do," Buffy lowered her gaze, for the first time realising how incredibly childlike her anger had been. "But have you stopped to realise if you should have it?"

Tara bit her lip, knowing Buffy was right and yet still refusing to accept the truth. "I think you are wrong about Willow."

"I know her, you just think you do. To her, you're just another fuck along the way. Trust me when I say you're better off without her."

Tara's cheeks coloured but she kept her gaze level with Buffy's. "I love her."

Buffy finally realised that Tara was not about to be swayed by anything she could say. Annoyed by the throngs of people staring at her while she was at her worst, Buffy made to leave. She brushed past Tara. As she did so she paused only momentarily to whisper words only Tara could hear,

"If you do love her, you will break this off before it goes too far!"

Buffy moved quickly from the room, leaving Willow and Tara surrounded by a still silent throng of very puzzled pilots. Tara looked down at Willow for a brief moment, the red head was barely conscious. She knelt beside her and gently lifted her head. Willow just groaned, her eyelids fluttering but not opening. Tara thought she was out completely until she spoke.

"I was on the end of a rather comprehensive arse kicking wasn't I?" she asked in a mumble, her lips barely moving.

"Without a doubt," Tara replied, putting an arm beneath Willow's back she pulled the injured girl up into a sitting position. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

"I haven't finished my breakfast," Willow protested lamely as Tara half-helped and half-dragged her back on to her unsteady feet.

* * *

The ship's doctor had futilely attempted to clean Willow up himself but gave up when it was apparent that Tara would have none of it. He made a hasty exit from the room after finding the necessary medical supplies, saying something like he would be in his office if they needed him.

Willow let out a yelp as Tara pressed a cloth soaked in iodine onto the cut about her eye. Tara just gave her a steady look as though she were a small child and pressed the cloth down more firmly

"You don't even notice when you need stitches in your arm but you cry like a baby at a little scratch!" the blonde scolded.

"There was a naked woman in my arms at the time. Do you really think I would care about a little pain?" Willow had a split lip which made every word she said quite difficult to understand.

"So you're saying I should take my clothes off and you'll stop your whining?"

"No, I'm saying that you can take your clothes off and we both work to make me forget my pain," Willow said it in such a serious voice Tara almost lost her straight face.

"You deserve to feel every moment of your pain, it was all self-inflicted." Tara refused to give into Willow's charm - just yet anyway. She drew the cloth away and examined the wound to find it didn't need any proper stitches. Tara was a little disappointed as she had been looking forward to sticking a needle in the hot-tempered redhead.

Willow gaped as far as her split lip would allow her to. "You heard what Buffy said, was I just going to stand back and let her say those things about me?"

"Yes!" Tara jabbed at Willow's lip and the red head yelped again. Tara ignored her wordless protests as she continued her lecture, "Buffy knows you too well, the slightest provocation and you…" Tara jabbed the cloth again.

"Easy, easy!" Tears were watering at the corner of Willow's eyes from the stinging of the iodine.

Tara drew in a breath and then suddenly burst out. "Willow, you're a hot-heated idiot!" _Come on, Maclay, tell her you don't want to be around her anymore. You have to!_

"Excuse me?" Willow couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

Tara drew in yet another breath, this time replying in her usual soft tone. "You heard me, Will." _I can't do it…I love her too much._

"Anyone would think you were on her side in all of this. That bitch would have killed me!"

"I suspect it would take a lot more than that to get rid of you, Captain Rosenberg. Besides, you don't understand where she's coming from." _And you certainly don't understand what I am, what I might do to you._

Willow couldn't believe Tara was standing here scolding her as though she were a small child who had been in a fight at school. She had been expecting sympathy and kisses instead of anger. Her own blood was boiling,

"You're damn right I don't! Why on earth should she care who I'm fucking? So you're a Slayer and I'm a Devil, big fucking deal! She should get over herself!" Willow yanked the cloth from Tara's hand and jumped down from the bed, striding towards the door as though she were going to storm out. She only took two steps before turning around. "And who are you to call me hot-headed? You've known me a matter of weeks and you think you have some sort of degree in Rosenberg studies?"

"Willow," Tara said sadly but her word was almost drowned by Willow's angry shouts.

"I should have known that the Slayers would all stick together!"

"Buffy has her orders, Willow," Tara said quietly.

Willow stopped, her next sentence left hanging as she tried to digest the meaning of Tara's words. "She has orders regarding your love life?" Willow was angry, she felt as though she were being made the target of a huge conspiracy. This was before she realised how ridiculous that notion was and forced her temper back under control

Tara sighed. "No…orders regarding me. Will…I can't tell you…you just have to trust me. I'm really sorry that I got you mixed up in all of this and if it could be any other way then it would be."

_What does she mean by that? She doesn't want me? Don't be a moron, Rosenberg. That's not what she said at all_. Willow dragged her temper under control, wrestling it down and clamping a tight lid on it.

"I love you," Willow said simply, as though that was more than enough for her to accept what Tara had just said. "And you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. I should be the one who's sorry. You were right, I am a hot-headed idiot."

"You are, Willow," Tara said with a nod. "Now scoot back up here so I can finish what I was doing."

A few moments later, just as Tara was placing the last of the neat butterfly stitches on Willow's cut, there was a quiet knock at the door. Both girls looked up to see Tad peering in anxiously, a look of relief evident on his face at his finding them both fully clothed and not locked in a passionate embrace.

"Hi," he said with a small smile. "You two might want to come up on deck."

Tara raised her eyebrows quizzically while Willow, who still had not managed to completely calm down, asked bluntly, "Why?"

"We've arrived," Tad said simply, wherever they had arrived he obviously was not going to let on just yet.

Willow jumped down from the bed, steadying herself with a hand on Tara's shoulder. She did not have any desire to parade around in front of the crew in her current condition but something told her this was a sight she did not want to miss.

Tad ushered both young women out of the door with a flourish of his hand, he winked at Willow as she passed him. He ignored the glare she gave him and said exactly what was on his mind,

"Looking good, Captain Rosenberg," he could not help but chuckle as the three of them left the medical bay.

"You are treading on some very dangerous ground, Dempster," Tara spoke on behalf of Willow, she could feel the tension flowing from where Willow held onto her shoulder. The red head's fingernails started digging into her skin, even through her jumper.

"We're at war," Tad replied with a shrug. "We all live in dangerous times and I'd rather it was a cute little redhead mad at me than an alien with a ray gun."

Tara felt Willow stiffen slightly and then the angry young woman made a sudden lunge back towards Tad. Ready for such a move, Tara wrapped both arms around Willow's waist and held her back but not without considerable effort.

Tad stepped back and raised both hands in front of him in a placating gesture, a grin still fixed on his face.

"She's even cuter when she's mad huh?" he asked Tara in a playful voice, Willow had to turn back around to concentrate as they went up a flight of stairs.

"You have no idea," Tara said over her shoulder.

They joined the steady flow of sailors heading aloft along the passage way. Tara finally let go of Willow, although watching her closely in case she tried to turn on Tad and strangle him.

When the three of them finally made it above deck, Willow forgot all about Tad's teasing and her fight with Buffy. She shrugged out of Tara's grip and rushed to the Odysseus' railing, staring with wide open eyes. They had obviously just passed through another net. When Willow searched out the Ajax, it was no longer projecting the field that had encompassed the Fleet throughout its journey.

She turned her gaze back to the scene in front of her to see a rather large island almost completely covered in snow and ice. Black rock showed through in several places. Several high peaks rose up from the sea. There was barely a flat piece of land anywhere. It was an ugly, rugged rock - hardly the ideal spot for a vacation. Willow doubted any sane person would have been living here before the military commandeered it. The only tenants to have been evicted would have been polar bears.

For all its isolation and inhospitality, there was a substantial harbour. Several other unfamiliar ships were docked at massive piers built out into the sea. While there were a cluster of snow-covered buildings on the surface built onto the side of hills, Willow suspected that the vast majority of the secrets the island concealed were below ground. She saw several huge hanger-like doors protruding from the face of a hill which further added to her suspicions.

At the highest point of the island was mounted a massive mast, similar to that on the Ajax but at least twice the size. Pink lights swirled around it and up into air so high above them they were lost in the mist. The net was obviously sufficient to conceal the entire island. Willow jumped up and down to stay warm, cupping her frozen fingers together and blowing warm air onto them.

"I guess this was where the convoy went," Tara replied as they passed several huge cranes unloading a merchant ship of its cargo. She drew a woollen cap from her jacket pocket and tugged it down over Willow's head. Willow smiled her thanks as she rediscovered her previously frozen ears.

"What is it with the military and secret bases?" Willow asked, still trying to take in everything that lay in front of her.

"You'd rather it wasn't secret so it could be blown up along with all our other bases?" Tad asked.

"Well…no…but I hate not knowing things." Willow pointedly didn't look at Tara as she said it, both girls knew exactly what Willow was leaving unsaid.

"You're not exactly very far up the chain of command Captain Rosenberg." Tad watched his misty breath waft in front of his eyes. "Need to know basis only."

"Well, I'm here…so that means I need to know. Where the hell are we, Dempster?"

"Ladies, welcome to Angel Island," Tad said in a jaunty voice. "Island tours are conducted on request, recreational activities are available and please enjoy your stay."

The Odysseus continued to make its way through the harbour. The massive bulk of the carrier made barely a ripple on the mill pond surface of the harbour. Everything was on an impossible scale, the docks looked as though they could easily support three entire fleets at the same time.

_I suppose this is the world's last big hope…whatever they are cooking up in here_. Willow mused as they inched towards a dock, the huge carrier completely dwarfed by a massive crane towering above them. _I guess I should feel some hope after all._

"I wonder how many millions of pounds this place cost - probably why Air Command wouldn't give me a pay rise when I last asked." Willow looked at the enclosed gun emplacements set at various points around the harbour, menacing black barrels pointed to the sky.

"Probably more," Tara said in awe.

"No one has that much money," Willow commented knowledgeably. "But I don't see why they couldn't have built this place in the Caribbean!"

"It's a secret military installation, not a tropical paradise," Tad pointed out helpfully.

"Do they at least have a heated swimming pool?" Willow asked plaintively, rubbing her freezing cold fingers together.

* * *

Before being taken on a tour of the island, Willow, Tara and the other pilots were shown their quarters for use while staying on Angel Island. Willow had indeed been correct when she had supposed that most of the island's facilities were underground. Once the ship had docked and their gear was stowed in duffle bags, the pilots were quickly ushered underground via a large elevator. They saw very little of the actual workings of the island and were instead lead straight to the barracks along a series of brightly lit corridors.

"These are your quarters, there is no room service on Angel Island so keep 'em clean," the young petty officer with the clipboard was saying as he walked out in front of the group.

Willow frowned at Tara upon hearing this. "Are we going to be staying here a while?"

"Not my place to know sir, just following orders," but he turned and said in a lower voice. "I heard something about reequipping the squadrons."

"Reequipping?" Willow asked with a sideways glance at Tara. "Reequipping!"

Tara quickly shot out her hand and gripped Willow's shoulder yet again. "Easy there, Will. They're not going to take your plane away from you."

"If they know what's best, they won't even try," Willow growled in a low voice.

The petty officer continued reading off names down his list, assigning each officer to a barrack room. Willow didn't even look up when Buffy's name was read, although she had to fight the urge to stick out her foot and trip up the blonde as she walked past.

"Flying Officer Maclay…Room 107."

Tara looked at Willow, hesitation spelt out clearly on her face. She drew in a breath and gently tapped the young man on the shoulder,

"You might as well assign that room to someone else. Just tell me which one is Captain Rosenberg's." She looked up to see Willow flashing her a dazzling grin, made almost comical by her split lip and heavily bruised face.

"Um, well let me see…210, just down the hall there."

Tara reached out and took Willow's hand as they left the rest of the group, their duffle bags slung over their shoulders. At 210, Willow pushed open the door to reveal a compact barrack room. It was by no means a five star hotel, yet there was far more space than the tiny cabin they shared on the Odysseus. Unlike the cold metal of the ship's cabin, the floor was covered with a large plain brown rug. A single bed was pushed up against one wall.

"There's a bed…not a bunk, an actual proper bed!" Willow entered the room and threw her bag on the floor. "Just think, if I had all this space to myself I'd feel lost."

"It's a good thing you don't," Tara murmured saucily, dropping her own bag she came up behind Willow to wrap her arms tightly around her waist.

Willow purred and twisted her neck so she could stroke Tara's cheek with her nose.

"I think I owe you a huge apology, want me to make it up to you?"

Tara looked dubiously at Willow's face. Her normally beautiful visage looked as though a very bad painter who favoured purples and blues had used it as his canvas.

"I am not kissing that," Tara replied with a perfectly straight face.

Willow giggled and crossed to the bed, after removing her boots she flopped onto it gratefully. She bounced up and down a couple of times and was rewarding with the satisfying sound of a spring mattress. Looking up at Tara with her most innocent expression, Willow patted the bed beside her.

"I know what you're thinking and the answer is no, Captain Rosenberg!" Tara joined her, throwing an arm around Willow's back and drawing her close. "We have less than twenty minutes until we're required in the island's main hanger."

Willow pouted. "I can't help it, any time at all alone in a room with you has me thinking about sex…well, no…that is a lie, I think about sex with you all the time."

"Well, I am hot," Tara said with a modest shrug, crossing the room to sit beside Willow.

The red head lifted her hand to Tara's hair and ran her fingers through it lovingly. Tara smiled and turned her head. Her lips were just there. Willow ached hungrily. She was more than a little disappointed when Tara went straight for her cheek, planting a small kiss among the bruises. Not to be dissuaded, Willow searched out Tara's lips. However, at the first brush of their skin together she yelped and pulled back suddenly,

"Damn!" Willow pressed her sleeve against her bleeding lip.

"I told you I wasn't kissing that," Tara said, a little sympathy in her voice.

"I guess that rules out plan A," Willow sighed.

"Plan A?"

"Yes, apology kisses…which means I have to move on to plan B…apology words, which I'm not so good at."

"I think you would be great at anything you tried," Tara said quietly.

"I'm not. There's a lot you don't know about me," Willow said in a miserable voice.

"And you know everything about me?" Tara asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No…I know even less about you that you know about me."

"About that-" Tara began.

"No, it's alright," Willow burrowed into Tara's side. "If you could tell me you would have already. I understand, I may not like it very much, but I understand," Willow drew back and stared into Tara's eyes. "Even though I don't really know what I'm protecting you from…I promise to do everything I can to keep you safe."

"Thank you, Willow."

"Now do I get another kiss?"

"No."

"Damn."

* * *

The interior of the island was a veritable hive of activity. It was a maze of corridors and gangways in which it was obvious the someone who did not know their way around could easily be lost forever. The clipboard officer lead them through with apparent ease, moving at such a pace that it was impossible to pause and study anything. For Willow, who liked to examine absolutely everything, this was frustrating to say the least.

"The upper levels are all living quarters and executives offices." The officer led them into yet another huge elevator, he did not stop talking. "Moving down we arrive at what are the real guts of this place, service levels…generators and the like are all right down at the bottom, well below sea level but what you are here for is on level three." The door opened and he marched out.

They had emerged in the biggest hanger Willow had ever seen. It was probably large enough to fit the entire Odysseus inside with a good deal of room on either side. While it was crowded with equipment and servicemen, the gaze of every pilot in the hanger fell on what was sitting right in front of them.

"What in the bloody hell is that piece of shit?" Willow burst out as they walked down a set of steps onto the hanger floor.

Willow kept walking until she was right next to the object of her fascination. It was an aircraft, no doubt about that. However it was quite unlike any flying vehicle Willow had ever seen. For one thing, there was no propeller to be seen although Willow guessed the propulsion system had something to do with the cylindrical shaped appendages, one beneath each wing. Overall, it was larger than the Draken but of a comparable size to the Gullstrike.

Willow ran her had along the leading edge of the swept back wing until she reached the strange under-wing cylinders. She peered in to see something like a huge fan and had absolutely no idea how it would keep a plane aloft.

Willow bent down and peered at its undercarriage with great interest. While planes usually had landing gear arranged two beneath each wing with a tiny tail wheel, she found herself staring at a plane which sat horizontal to the ground, instead of on a slope. It sat that way because of the third wheel located in its nose.

Without waiting for authorisation, she jumped up onto the wing and peered into the open cockpit. It was much larger than her Draken's and equipped with an alarming number of extra controls. Willow lent her head in and was about to start pressing buttons when she heard a voice down below her.

"I would not go pressing any buttons if I were you, Captain Rosenberg, you might set something on fire."

Willow jumped down, feeling suitably guilty, and came face to face with a tall, bespectacled man wearing a white coat over a tweed suit. She drew herself up to her full height and still found him looking down at her.

"That bloody 'piece of shit' as you so charmingly put it is what is going to stop you and your squadron from being turned into fish food," he said calmly, not worried by the fact that every pair of eyes in their group was trained on him.

"Mr Giles?" Tara exclaimed, joining Willow's side with a small smile on her face.

"How are you, Tara?" he asked with a nod, Willow recognised a distinct fondness in his voice as though he were speaking to a favourite niece.

"Apart from the obvious…I'm fine," she replied, making a point of reaching out to take Willow by the hand.

Mr Giles raised his eyebrows before removing his glasses and cleaning them as though his life depended on it. "Well…you're looking very good I must say."

When he was finally satisfied that there couldn't possibly be any speck of anything left on his glasses, he put them back on and surveyed the group of pilots in front of him.

"First things first, I'm Doctor Rupert Giles…but, although they know I detest such lack of formality, everyone around here calls me Giles and I suppose you all may as well. I'm here to introduce you to your new vehicle. It's actual name is the Supermarine Prototype G but informally it has become known as the Guardian. Capable of a max speed of close to six hundred miles an hour, armed with four 20mm cannons and with provisions for carrying six air to air rockets-"

"What the bloody hell is a rocket?" Willow snapped, angry that it had become apparent they were going to take her Draken from her and make her fly this thing she didn't begin to understand.

Giles sighed and rolled his eyes at the interruption, "You'll find out…there are a lot of things you will all need to find out…and in a very short time if we are to halt the unidentified hostile extra-terrestrial invasion-"

"LGFs," Faith spoke up from where she and Buffy stood, as far away from Willow as possible.

"I beg your pardon?" Giles asked with a frown.

"Little Green Fuckers - LGFs. It's much simpler than extra hostile…thingees or whatever it was that you called them."

"Oh, I see…okay, does anyone have any questions?" To which every single hand shot up in the air.

Giles looked perplexed before he pointed to Willow. "Captain Rosenberg?"

"Why is it not red? Can we make them red?"

"Uh…colour schemes are not my area of expertise. You there, at the back?"

Thus began the flood of questions, the answers to which none of them fully understood as Giles rattled away using complex terms so incomprehensible he might be making them up on the spot. Willow just stood with her arms folded over her chest, a small frown on her face as she tried to digest all the information that was flying around her. Eventually she gave up even trying and sighed, wondering how she was going to break the bad news to her beloved Draken.

"So…in the end…you're saying we now have a real chance against the LGFs?" Buffy asked as the questions finally subsided after everyone had figured out they were never going to get a simple answer from Giles. It was the only question that really mattered anyway.

"Err, yes," he replied, obviously fighting the urge to tack a technical explanation on where one was not needed.

"Does anyone else feel that we're going to be doing some arse kicking of our own?" Faith grinned.

An excited cheer rose from the ranks, everyone joined in except the disgruntled red head standing at the front.

"But it's not red!" Willow protested. No one was really listening.


	13. The Perils of a Dream

**Chapter Thirteen  
The Perils of a Dream**

"Okay, I know you and I swore that this day would never come. I know I promised we would be together forever but…these things happen and there's nothing that we can do about it. I'll not forget you though, I still love you," Willow sighed and closed her eyes. "And I promise that I won't let them melt you into scrap…and when this is all over we can be together again right? Just like old times."

Willow closed one fist around her Draken's stick, the other hand reached out to trace the instrument panel. She was saying goodbye to an old friend and it hurt like hell. Willow didn't even need to close her eyes to remember the day she first laid her eyes on the beautiful piece of machinery.

"_And here we are, let me introduce you to your crate…fresh off the production line."_

"_How can you call that a crate? Look at it! It looks beautiful and dangerous just sitting there!" _

"_Well, you two will go together perfectly then."_

_Willow smiled at the young man standing beside her before turning back to the Draken. She ran her hand up and down one of the prop blades as though she was caressing a lover's flank. "Captain Thompson-"_

"_Teddy, call me Teddy please."_

"_Teddy then - it suits you. Did they fill you in about…everything?" Willow asked._

"_By 'everything' do you mean your 'irrational, reckless behaviour' in flying beneath the viaduct at the Amberly train station and the subsequent disciplinary hearing which almost saw you slapped with the most dishonourable of dishonourable discharges?" At Willow's tiny nod, the Captain continued in a jaunty tone. "Yes, Bryant explained he was sending me one of the stubbornest, most hot-headed pilots in all of Air Command for me to straighten out. 'By any and all means necessary' I believe were his exact words."_

_Willow couldn't resist a smirk. "Nice to hear I'm thought so highly of by the brass."_

"_Yes well, I have the strictest orders to keep a close eye on you." He flashed her a charmingly boyish grin that would have melted the heart of most girls and reduced them to quivering wrecks. _

_Willow, however, only had eyes for the plane in front of her._

"…_but not too close," Teddy finished quietly. "You might as well jump on in and I'll leave the two of you to get acquainted. The squadron usually has drinks in the officers mess at seven…so I'll be seeing you there, Red. That's my only order for the day."_

"Captain Rosenberg sir?" someone was speaking to her. "Excuse me?"

Willow looked out over the side of the cockpit to see the young man who had escorted them to their quarters the day before. Not having really looked at him yesterday, she now saw a short, round-faced young man with thick glasses. The clipboard he held looked as though it was permanently attached to his hand. Clipboard man reached up and handed her a thin slip of paper. With a nod he turned on his heels and walked swiftly away.

Willow unfurled the paper to read a very brief, type-written note that requested her to report to someone called General Quincy at 1100 hours. Willow crumpled the paper in her fist and lent her forehead on the Draken's lifeless instrument panel. In other words a certain redhead was about to have her arse kicked yet again - although this time it would be official.

"Looks like we both fucked up, Teddy," Willow whispered aloud.

Willow ran her hand over the Draken's stick for one last time before swiftly climbing from the cockpit. The last thing she wanted when meeting with the brass was a pair of red-rimmed eyes.

* * *

Willow spent most of the time until her meeting with the General wandering around Angel Island hopelessly lost as she looked for Tara. Several times she was approached by guardsmen and told politely to turn back the way she came as she had inadvertently entered an area that was off limits to all personal without clearance.

After searching their room, the mess hall and the gym she had not only found no sign of Tara but nor could she find a heated swimming pool anywhere. Finally she thought to try the first place she should have gone to find a pilot. Willow tried the hanger next to the one she had been in not half an hour before. It was not long before she saw her lover kneeling on the wing of a Guardian. The unpainted metal gave it an unfinished look. Willow frowned, wondering what on earth she was doing.

"There you are," Willow said with some relief. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

Tara turned around and in doing so she revealed what she had been up to. She set down a thin paintbrush and a pot of paint as Willow lent against the fuselage with her arms folded, she raised her eyebrows at her lover. Tara smiled guiltily. Just beneath the cockpit she had painted a perfect little horned Devil, complete with trident and forked tail. He was smiling an evil, toothy grin.

"They wouldn't let me paint the whole plane red…although I asked them politely," Tara began.

Willow knew it was absolutely perfect. It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for her. Yet all she could feel was the crumpled piece of paper she still clutched in her fist. Tara stopped talking, instantly noticing the distracted look on the other woman's face.

"Um, I-I know I'm a pretty awful artist but why the gloomy face? Is it bad? I can paint over it if you want?"

"Wha…" Willow looked up with a look on her face that said plainly she had been thinking about something entirely different, then she finally realised what Tara had been saying. "Oh no, it's perfect."

She reached up and put both arms around Tara's waist, helping her down from the wing until she was standing in her arms.

"Is it not scary enough?"

"It's absolutely fine. It scares the heck out of me honestly. Thank you so much."

"Just don't get any holes in it…please?"

"I promise," Willow said sincerely enough. She could not however manage a smile.

"What is it?" Tara asked. She could only hope that whatever was up with Willow had nothing to do with her ability as an artist.

Willow looked down at her hand and then held the piece of paper up to Tara. Tara took it slowly and unfolded it, smoothing it out until she could read it through. A few moments later she looked up at Willow.

"A disciplinary meeting?"

Willow nodded. "I guess the brass isn't too happy with their officers working out differences with their fists. We would have been better off doing it over a game of checkers."

"B-but…I can come with you and testify in your defence!" Tara knew it was stupid before she said it…and yet she needed to say it anyway.

"That's really sweet of you…thank you…but really, what is there to defend?" Willow asked honestly. "my only regret is that I didn't land a few more on the bitch's face."

"What do you think will happen?"

"Well, every other time I've committed a gross violation of military regulations they've packed me up and shipped me off somewhere to learn my lesson. I honestly don't think they can find anywhere worse to send me than this frozen rock. Did I tell you that there is no heated swimming pool here?"

"Will," Tara said levelly.

Willow sighed. "I know…not a good time for levity. Well, they might strip my command from me and bust me back to being a non-com. Although there is a bright side to that, I'll have to call you sir."

"I don't want you to call me sir," Tara said firmly. "I just wish you would take these things seriously."

"I am…I mean I will. It's just that I'm worried."

"The meeting will go fine," Tara tried to reassure her. I'm sure."

"Oh, I'm not worried about seeing General Whatshisface…although it's all connected in a way…Tara…what's my problem?" Willow asked in a small voice.

"Your problem? What do you mean by that?" Tara frowned, stroking a strand of hair from Willow's face.

"I just can not seem to do anything right in my life. Well, except flying but even then my track record hasn't been so good of late."

"And making love," Tara said kissing Willow's forehead. "I'm not much of an expert…but I think you're pretty talented in that regard."

Willow closed her eyes and brought both hands up to cup Tara's cheeks, stroking the soft skin with her fingertips. "I thought you said no levity."

"I'm being serious, Will…whatever happens…I love you for who you are, bad temper and all," Tara brushed the bruised lips with a feather-like kiss. "Although…it is somewhat of a struggle loving you looking the way you do right now."

Giles suddenly interrupted the two of them with a cough,

Both girls looked up. Willow frowned while Tara smiled softly. She disentangled herself from Willow and walked into Giles' arms. To Willow it appeared as though the blonde had been desperate to hug the bespectacled scientist the moment she first laid eyes on him the day before. If it was not appropriate then, it was almost endearing now.

Tara drew out of Giles' embrace and went to stand beside Willow. "Giles, I did not get a chance to introduce you two properly yesterday-"

"Captain Willow Rosenberg," Giles rattled off quickly before Tara had a chance to complete the introduction. "Your reputation precedes you."

"It always does," Willow replied with a knowing smile. "So how do you know Tara? If the answer's not classified that is?"

"Well, ah no, it's not." Giles looked as though he were having some trouble finding the right words. "Um, I was sent to Sunnydale a few years ago, to do some…research and we met there."

"I see," Willow nodded, although really she did not. There was nothing in that brief explanation that even indicated that why they were so familiar with one another. Willow suspected there was more to the story than either of them were letting on. However, she wisely decided that now was not exactly a good time to press for further information.

"Want me to show you how this new-fangled thing works?" he asked, waving his hand at the Guardian.

As he did so he noticed the small character that impaired the otherwise flawless metal finish. Giles hastily stripped off his glasses, gave them a thorough cleaning and put them back on. He took a few steps forward and saw the paint can.

"Who…who-" he waved his finger at the Devil design and then back to the two girls. His eyes narrowed when he saw a small smear of red paint on Tara's cheek. "You did that? To my plane?"

"Well…actually it's Willow's plane," Tara replied cheekily. "But she'll take good care of it."

Willow looked at her watch and the knot in her stomach worsened. "I have…somewhere to be. It was nice to meet you, Giles."

With one last tight-lipped smiled at Tara, she made her exit.

She was out of sight before Giles opened his mouth, somewhat disgruntled. "She's doing it already!"

"Giles," Tara said softly. "Everyone calls you Giles because you know you don't really mind. If you had just asked Willow to call you 'Mr Giles' she would have done so."

Giles shrugged rather than admit Tara was right. There were a few moments silence before he turned to her and gave her a steady stare. Tara did not even want to meet his gaze.

"You haven't told her anything have you?" he asked quietly.

"You know I can't."

"What if-" Giles began.

Tara's fists clenched. "What if it happens to her as well?"

Tara shuddered uncontrollably when the most unpleasant memory she possessed tried to surface. She forced it back to the most hidden depths of her mind but even as she did she felt as though she wanted to start mourning all over again.

"You know it might. You two are...intimate?" Giles asked awkwardly.

Tara's cheeks coloured and she ducked her head.

"I'll take that as a yes," Giles guessed, although it was hardly necessary, even a blind man would not have missed the chemistry between the two of them.

"Giles…she's my lover, not my kin. She'll be fine, I know she will," Tara sounded unconvincing even to her own ears. "She has to be."

"Willow walks your dreams already doesn't she?" Giles asked in a compassionate voice.

Tara sighed. "Yes," she admitted in a whisper.

Giles placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, he lent a little closer to her ear as he whispered, "I'm not a military man so it's easy for me to say this, there are some orders have to be broken, especially in the face of something even more important."

"You shouldn't be saying things like that to me Giles," Tara said softly. "But I'm glad you did."

* * *

Willow was not at all surprised to find Buffy Summers already standing in the General's office when she opened the door. She took her spot in front of the desk. Having done this too many times she was no stranger to the formality. Willow drew her chin up as the General with far too many stars on his shoulder stared them both down. She didn't even risk a sideline glance at Buffy as she already knew that the blonde would be doing exactly the same as she was - standing ramrod straight with her hands clasped tightly behind her back.

"Captain Willow Rosenberg…Captain Elizabeth Summers." He placed a stringent emphasis on their ranks.

Buffy and Willow couldn't help but wonder at the emphasis in his voice, wondering if it meant they were indeed losing the pips on their shoulders. General Quincy appeared to be cut from the mould of Air Vice Marshal Bryant as opposed to Commander Boone – which meant that he was a proud military man as opposed to being a grumpy old bastard. Willow was slightly relieved but she still felt his anger from where she stood a few feet away.

"Frankly, I am not going to ask either of you for an explanation because I do not want to listen to any of your bullshit," Quincy folded his arms and lent back in his chair, managing to make even that simple act look threatening. "So I get to do most of the talking not because I am in love with the sound of my own voice but because my word is the only one that counts for anything in this room."

He paused to leaf through sheets of paper. As Willow stood there she reflected on how it never failed to amaze her how much paperwork the military managed to amass. They were in the middle of a war, having arrived on the island just the day before and already the General in charge had comprehensive files on them both. If there was one thing that Willow could be proud of during her time in the military, it was that she had succeeded in generating a vast amount of paperwork.

"Summers, your record reads like a textbook…clear and yet boring," Willow thought she saw Buffy bristle slightly out of the corner of her eye. Quincy continued, "Rosenberg, in part your record reads like an exemplar to all pilots as to what the military is looking for-" he paused for effect, "- and in part like the transcript from a military court! How the hell you are still allowed in the cockpit of a fighter plane, let alone in charge of your own squadron completely escapes me. The only explanation I can think of is that someone higher up than either of us has seen fit to gloss over your numerous transgressions…also for reasons unknown."

_Here it comes…I can hear it already, Janitor Rosenberg,_ Willow thought glumly. _Trade in your fighter plane for a mop._

"And to add to the list…fist-fighting in the midst of your men? If the enemy could see the calibre of the Captains we have at our disposal they would be laughing all the way to world domination!"

He slammed down the papers in his hand and took up a nearby pencil. There was no sound in the office except the scratching of the lead across paper as he scribbled a something on a sheet of paper and slid it across the desk.

"Look at it," he waved at it, turning in his chair to face away from them both, looking into nothing.

Both Buffy and Willow looked down at it to see an impossibly large number.

"Do either of you have any idea what that is? You can speak now."

"No sir," they replied in unison.

"That, is an estimate of how many people have been killed by the enemy…military personal, civilians…men, women, children…how does that make you feel? Give me an honest answer."

"Sad sir," Buffy replied.

"Angry sir," Willow said through gritted teeth.

"Precisely! And what military we have left are all that stops who's left from becoming just another number. Those planes sitting down in that hanger are a work of genius. They could possibly even turn the tide of this war in our favour. Yet they are nothing but piles of very expensive scrap metal without the pilots to fly them," Quincy stood, pushing his chair back so hard it hit the wall behind him, he turned to jab his finger at the pair of them. "I want to be able to slam a court martial on you both, especially you Rosenberg…I'd very much like to get you the hell out of the military but you know what I want more? I want to blow up every single one of those blasted damn bloody little…" he struggled for words.

"Little Green Fuckers," Willow decided to risk speaking up. "LGFs."

Quincy looked as though he were about to chomp her head off with one bite before he drew a short breath and nodded sharply. "Appropriate," he said tersely. "And the only way I can do that is to get pilots into those planes and into the air. All the technology in the world is useless without people who can operate it."

Willow felt a small spark of hope. The prospect of becoming a janitor looked less likely with each word out of Quincey's mouth.

"So…against my better judgment, I'm letting you both off the hook…at least until after the war…and if we're all alive then I might just be so damn happy that I'll forget this incident."

"Thank you sir!" Buffy and Willow both breathed a common sigh of relief.

"Don't thank me," Quincy said angrily. "I'm not that nice. Dismissed Rosenberg…Summers, stay right where you are."

"Sir!" Willow saluted smartly and left the office without so much as a glance back.

The door shut firmly behind her and she heard nothing more that was said within the room. She briefly wondered what the hell was going on but was much too relieved to dwell on it for long. She had to find Tara.

* * *

"Now this is what I call luxury," Willow purred as she rubbed her sweater covered back over the small radiator heater in the corner of their room.

After the entire afternoon and much of the evening had been spent freezing their arses off in a drab little room that served as a training facility, the pilots had finally been released. Willow's head hurt from studying diagrams of the Guardian and how it operated. Although she had a good head for technical knowledge of any kind, she was a practical rather than a theory person. Sitting down at a desk with nothing but books and sheets of paper in front of her did not make for a happy Willow.

Only now was she was beginning to feel a little better. It felt wonderful to be in a room that wasn't the temperature of an icebox. Also, the fact that she and Buffy had been let off the hook had sunk in fully. Willow had already vowed many times to never let it happen again.

Tara turned from the mirror after setting her hairbrush down on the table. The dark-blonde strands hung in glassy waves, ends curling slightly. Willow ceased rubbing her back against the heater and just stared, drool threatening to gather at the corners of her mouth. Even though she had not done anything exceptional with her appearance, Tara was absolutely gorgeous. She wore her Air Command issue white woollen jumper, the roll neck concealing her lovely pale throat. The woollen long-johns she wore hugged her shapely legs, the curve of her buttock just visible where the jumper ended. Thick socks were pulled up almost to her knees. Definitely not the most glamorous outfit the world had ever seen…and yet Willow felt a swell of love and warm desire flowing through her body.

"What?" Tara asked simply.

"Don't ever get all dolled up in a posh cocktail dress with your make-up and hair done all properly," Willow said quietly, leaving the warmth of the heater to cross to an even more pleasant source of heat. "At least not in front of me."

"Will!" Tara chuckled, wrapping her arms around the toasty warm young woman. "If I ever did get all dolled up like that, not that I ever have…I don't even own a tube of lipstick…anyway, if I ever did, it would only be for you. Why should I not?"

"Because you'll take my breath away and I'll probably die from lack of oxygen to the brain," Willow explained. "Although I would die a very happy woman."

"Well, I don't have a cocktail dress stowed in my duffle bag," Tara stepped back from Willow's embrace and peeled off her jumper, with a casual toss she threw it on the floor. "But what about this…"

The ugly, prickly woollen vest and thick socks very quickly went the same way as the jumper. Then pausing to wink at a very quiet Willow, Tara ever so slowly slid the long-johns downwards, revealing her long, creamy legs. Willow's lips parted, she slipped into full-fledged gape mode. Her fists clenched behind her back as she fought the urge to help Tara take the stockings off with her teeth.

An eternity later, Tara stood in front of her wearing just her cotton knickers, bra and a dazzling but shy smile.

"T-that's…good too," Willow swallowed hastily.

"Now close your eyes," Tara commanded in a soft whisper.

_Tara-in-charge…I like it_, Willow thought with a delicious shiver as she complied.

She stood in the middle of the room and heard Tara's footsteps pad across the room. There was a small click…the light was off.

Willow couldn't hear much over her beating heart, she stood waiting for a few moments. She could smell Tara a few feet away and ached to be able to reach out to her. When she finally did touch her, Willow jumped slightly. Tara's hand closed over her own. Gently, the blonde picked it up and ran her fingers lightly all over Willow's – her finger tips, over her knuckles. She turned the hand over so her palm was facing upwards, moments later Willow felt moist lips kissing her palm. They were callused from too many hours spent gripping a control stick. She shivered again even though the room was a perfectly warm temperature. When Tara took one of her fingers in her mouth, Willow let out a small sigh.

"Touch me, Will," Tara lifted Willow's hand and placed it on her breast.

Willow let out a soft growl of desire as she felt the firm mound beneath her sensitive fingers. She massaged it gently, feeling the way the nipple responded to her touch. Eagerly, she brought her other hand up as well so she had her hands completely full with Tara's breasts. Willow could only think of a very few things that made her happier.

Willow ran her hands down over Tara's hard stomach before circling around her back. They busied themselves in the small of her back, caressing tenderly before exploring lower. Willow met the curve of her buttocks and cupped both cheeks in her hand, kneading the firm flesh between her fingers. While one hand continued to stroke and fondle Tara's arse, she moved the other around to her front. She cupped Tara's warm sex with her hand, feeling the downy curls beneath her skin. Her index finger probed deeper into the warmth, finding her slit she slipped inside.

"You're so wet!" Willow breathed excitedly, she crushed her lips against Tara's…well and truly forgetting the one little problem…"Ow!" the cut on her lip protested at the rough treatment.

Willow pulled back slightly, feeling immensely sorry for herself.

"Stop your whining and take your clothes off," Tara whispered fiercely in Willow's ear. "I'll kiss you somewhere else."

"Yes ma'am."

Moments later, Willow was lying on her back. Her own clothes strewn about the floor with Tara's. Tara was kissing her, exploring her breasts, and stomach. Everywhere she left a trail of fire in her wake, as well as glistening saliva. Willow's head pressed back into the pillow and her hands clutched at the sheet beneath her. She balled the fabric up in her tightly clenched fists.

Then Tara was moving her legs apart, spreading them with a gentle touch on the inside of her thighs. Willow clenched her teeth as Tara's breath fell fast and heavy on her exposed sex - so close to what she needed. Willow began to reach down a hand to press Tara's head between her legs. With a small moan she stopped and forced herself to be patient. Tara had never done this before.

With trembling hands, Tara spread Willow's folds open. A low moan from Willow followed her touch. She flicked her tongue nervously over Willow's warm sex, tasting her for the first time. Willow moaned again, this time a little louder.

Willow lifted her head slightly from the pillow, watching the blonde hair fanned out over her stomach as Tara explored her soaking wet sex. She was so tentative and hesitant, her tongue darting everywhere at once as though she was not sure just where to put it. It was still driving Willow crazy. With gentle hands she guided Tara's head, she cried out when the blonde began teasing the hard nub at her core.

Her head sank back into pillow, eyes closed. Her hands still rested lightly on Tara's head. She became detached from the rest of the physical world and lost herself in a place where just she and Tara existed. As her cries filled her own ears they drowned everything else out. The war, Buffy, Tara's secrets – none of it existed.

As she slowly came down from the throes of passion, Willow felt Tara's weight shift. The blonde crawled up her body until she lay along Willow's length and nuzzled her head against her breasts. Tara's leg nestled between Willow's sweaty thighs.

Willow grinned and rubbed her cheek against Taras, not caring as her bruised flesh protested with twinges of pain.

"I could fuck you all night," Willow whispered throatily in Tara's ear.

"That's the best idea I've ever heard," Tara replied, her fingers slipping across Willow's sweat soaked back. "What are you waiting for?"

Willow giggled, "I think I've unleashed a vixen," her hands stroked Tara's silken flesh, feeling the blonde tremble with need beneath her.

"Well, I'm never wrong…and I did say you were good at making love," Tara kissed Willow's forehead as the red head's hands went eagerly to her breasts.

It was hours later when Tara finally pulled the blankets up over their sweaty, entwined bodies and the two pilots fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

"_Dream…dream, dream, dream…dammit, where's Tara when I need her?"_

_Willow took a hesitant step forward, hearing a squelch beneath her feet as she did so. When she looked down she saw the ground was soaked in blood. It mixed with the dirt to make a macabre sort of mud. Hearing her heart beat in her ears she spun around slowly, keeping her entire body tense. _

_She did not know where she was except that she was inside a non-descript building. Much of what lay around her was destroyed and reduced to piles of rubble. It was all dark, black and it stank. There were no windows, the only light came from the dying embers of several small fires around her. Willow tripped and fell forward heavily, she scrambled to see what she had fallen over and almost vomited when she saw a body. The sightless eyes of a young women stared at her, pleading for Willow to save her. It was much too late - there was a gaping hole in her chest. Shattered bone and bloody, pulpy flesh protruded sickeningly. _

_On all fours, Willow hastily backed away from the body before standing up again. She choked, fighting the bile that rose in her throat. She was a pilot. Even in war she was not supposed to see the horrible reality of death...not so closely anyway. All she ever did was push a button or watch as machines erupted in balls of flame or plunged into the ground. There wasn't supposed to be any blood. _

_The shifting of rubble off to her right caught her attention. Willow peered anxiously into the darkness. Slowly she crouched down to pick up a twisted piece of metal…holding it in front of her like a club. _

_A shadow moved, more shifting of rubble. It was followed by heavy footfalls. Willow backed away, really wanting to turn tail and run like hell._

_Now would be a really good time to wake up…just wake up Willow…there are Tara snuggles waiting for you if you do…come on!_

_The shadow suddenly erupted into the light, a large shape bursting forth without any warning. Willow screamed but no sound came out, she fell backwards over the body at her feet as the hulking shape advanced on her. It would be on her in seconds but all she could do was stare._

_It was one of them…_

_Only it wasn't little. It stood well over six feet. Nor was it green. For the most part, the humanoid shape was covered in bulky armour, its chest, groin, legs and upper arms. Its head was covered in a large, ornate helmet. What little skin she could see was dark - near black in the dim light. Although as it came closer she could see it was an almost purple crimson._

_Willow met its eyes and wished fervently she had not. It hated her. She didn't know how she knew, nor did she need to know any more than that. _

_It was almost on her. Willow jumped to her feet. She could smell it. It was like an abattoir - rank and putrid. The stuff of death and decay. Not knowing what she was doing Willow swung the metal in her hands with all the force she could muster. A guttural half-scream, half-roar tore from her throat as she did so. _

_Although Willow was dwarfed by the creature, she caught it off guard. The swinging weapon caught it on the side of the helmet with a dull thump. Her hand jarred painfully with the impact as the head barely reacted to her blow. She brought it back around for another swing but this time the metal club ended up trapped within a huge, rock solid fist. With one swift tug, it was torn from her fingers and tossed aside like a stick. Willow had time to gulp once before she was backhanded and thrown backwards. With a thud she landed meters away, crying out as a shard of concrete dug into her back. She had barely a moment to reflect on her pain when, with a roar, it advanced. Willow scrambled backwards like a crab, her fingers clawing at the rubble beneath them. The skin scraped and tore and yet all she could think about was getting away. The hopelessness of any action she might attempt did not escape her, yet she had to at least try. Her fingers curled around a brick, she lifted it and flung it. The creature swatted it away like a bug and lurched forward. The hand swung though the air and Willow lifted her hand in a futile gesture to fend it off. _

_A claw sliced into her palm, Willow cried out and drew her hand into her chest. She looked up, bravely meeting its soulless eyes despite her terror. _

_Now would be a really good time to wake up!_

"Wake up!"

Willow opened her eyes to find nothing but darkness…and yet this time it was a pleasant darkness. She smelt Tara immediately and smiled in relief.

"You were thrashing about something terrible," Tara said softly. "Bad dream?"

"Not anymore," Willow replied quietly.

She could feel Tara leaning over her own huddled form, her hair brushing against her face. Tara reached across her body to the lamp.

Willow squinted at the sudden brightness but her eyes gradually came into focus to find Tara looking down at her. The sight of her beautiful eyes, tinged with gold as they reflected the lamplight, was more than enough to remind Willow that it had all just been a dream…and dreams were not real.

She reached up to run her hand through blonde hair, trace luscious lips with her fingertips…and remember exactly what those lips had done just a few hours ago. Even just the memory of Tara bringing her to climax sent shivers down her spine…and stirred more than a little desire in her gut once again. She stroked the arm that was still reaching across her, moving for the watch on the bedside table.

"Good gracious," Tara said softly. "It's almost 0530 already. I feel as though I just closed my eyes."

"Well, that happens when you make love until the small hours of the morning," Willow smiled. "I'm sorry…next time we'll have to make sure we don't stay up past 2200…no wasting time at bedtime, straight to the sex, then to the orgasms – only one each though, that's all we have time for – and then to sleep!"

"Willow!" Tara giggled.

She crawled over Willow, fighting the urge to run her hands over the beautiful naked body beneath her. Tara clambered out of bed quickly and began tugging on the clothes that she had discarded the night before. Doing up her pants and tucking her woollen skivvy in she looked back to the bed to see Willow hadn't made a move at all.

"Come on, we have to be in the hanger at 0600 and I want breakfast first, I'm starving!" As though on cue, Tara's stomach rumbled insistently.

"I'm not hungry," Willow burrowed her head back into the pillow. "Can you just bring me a cup of tea?"

"There's no room service here remember?" Tara picked up Willow's chemise and threw it at her.

Willow's hand shot up and caught it. "Alright, alright!"

Willow frowned as she sat up. She stared at the piece of cotton in her hand. A bright red smear had stained it.

"But I'm not…" Willow looked at the palm of her hand to see an angry slash going across it, "…bleeding." She watched half-fascinated and half-terrified as the blood flow over the palm of her hand.

Tara had crossed the floor in an instant. She took Willow's hand in her own and quickly pressed the already stained chemise against the wound.

"How on earth did you manage to do this? You have only been awake for a minute and you haven't even gotten out of bed yet?" Tara was asking.

"I-I don't know…my hand was slashed in my dream but-"

"What did you say?" Willow looked up to see Tara's eyes wide and frightened.

"In my dream…nightmare really…this thing attacked me and cut my hand exactly like this," Willow pressed down on her cloth covered hand and winced.

"This thing attacked you?" Tara asked, her voice quavering.

"Yes, great big nasty looking brute wearing armour. I don't know why but I had the feeling that it was one of them, you know…an LGF."

"One of them?"

"Yes…Tara, why do you keep repeating everything I say?" Willow reached up her good hand to cup Tara's cheek. "Why do I get the feeling that you know something about this?"

Tara's eyes were brimming with unshed tears and her mouth worked, but no sound emerged. A sudden sob erupted from her throat and she lent into Willow's touch, nuzzling the hand with her cheek, her nose, kissing it softy. Willow was growing increasingly alarmed, needing some answers.

"Okay, I had a dream…is that it…you had the same dream?" Willow asked urgently. "You weren't there though…" Tara tore away from Willow's touch and stood up shakily. Willow reached out to her, pleading with her to come back. "Tara, please tell me what the fuck is going on here. Why am I having these crazy, fucked up dreams? And if you know then can you tell me how the hell we make them stop?"

Tara drew in a ragged breath. "I should have stopped it before it ever came to this…but god…I love you, Will! You have to understand that even though I…can't tell you!"

Willow threw the covers off her naked body and stood in front of Tara. She ached, wanting just to take the young woman in her arms and tell her everything was going to be fine. _How can you tell her that? You don't even know what the hell is going on!_

"How can you not tell me?" Willow tried to keep her voice even. "I thought I could respect your wish to keep whatever twisted secret you're carrying inside you, I still want to but I think I'm in much too deep now…I have to know! How else am I going to keep you safe?" Willow honestly meant it, even though she was the one standing with a torn palm, blood soaking through the cloth wrapped around the wound.

"I'm not the one in danger," Tara took a few steps backward. "And it doesn't matter what you say, I still cannot tell you."

"It doesn't matter what I say?" Willow couldn't stop the anger from creeping into her voice even though shouting at the girl she loved was the last thing she ever wanted to do, "What about if I say I love you…that I have since the moment I first laid eyes on you…before I even saw your face," she choked back her anger, replacing it with tears, "A-and the one thing that's getting me through all of this madness, keeping me going, is the thought that I want to spend the rest of my life with you! Every single day of it…eating, talking, holding you in my arms, making love to you with everything I am or just fucking you senseless until you don't even have the strength to cry out my name anymore…hell, I even want to do the goddamn housework together!"

"It's never going to happen, Willow," Tara sounded so very sad it almost wrenched Willow's heart from her chest.

Willow was struck speechless, not even for a moment did she want to believe that she and Tara were not going to be together forever.

"Tara?" she croaked pleadingly.

"I have to get away from you…as far away as possible." Tara moved to the door.

"Tara wait!" Willow crossed the room in a heartbeat to stand right beside Tara as she opened the door.

"Don't…just don't!" The blonde stepped out into the corridor. "Stay there…please."

Willow obeyed and yet it was the last thing she wanted to do._ Run after her you ninny…hello, naked? Who the hell cares…stop that damn woman!_

She thrust her hand against the door, stopping Tara from closing it as she stepped out into the corridor. Tara began walking away and Willow followed in a determined march.

"Just let me go, Willow!" Tara didn't even look over her shoulder, each step that took her away from what she and Willow shared felt as though knives were driving into her feet.

"You can't just walk away from me like this!" Willow protested. "Have you any idea what you're doing to me?"

Tara whirled around and Willow almost walked straight into her. "Have you any idea what I will do to you if I don't stay the hell away from you? No? Then I'll tell you - you'll die Willow, very painfully and messily and there won't be anything you can do to stop it!"

Tara glared at her before turning and continuing to walk down the corridor. She heard no steps behind her and sighed raggedly in relief. Once she was safely around the corner, and only then, did she allow the sobs she had been holding back to break free.

Willow stood in the middle of the corridor. The cold air caused goosebumps to prick her skin but she couldn't feel them at all. She was numb and only dimly aware of the footsteps behind her.

"Willow?" it was Tad. He rushed to her side and threw a bulky coat over her shoulders. "Did you know you're standing naked in the middle of the corridor?"

"I am?" Willow mumbled.

Tad gently propelled her back to her room and she went without a fuss - like an automaton.

"Do you need anything?" he asked as Willow started shutting the door on his face.

"Ah, no," Willow replied quietly as she shook her head. "I have to be in the hanger at 0600…I'm going to be late."

"Okay." Tad nodded but then frowned. "Where's Tara?"

"In the process of getting away from me," Willow replied before slamming the door shut in Dempster's face.

"Okay, bye then," Tad said from the other side of the door.

Willow heard his footsteps as he walked away. No doubt he was thinking that she was absolutely nuts. Wondering what the hell she had done, Willow sank down against the door and drew her knees up to her chest. As she hugged them closed to her, her jaw set determinedly. She would find out what Tara was keeping from her. Whatever the cost and no matter how the answer would affect her…she had to know.


	14. Damn you, Tara Maclay!

**Chapter Fourteen  
Damn you, Tara Maclay!**

Tara had spent most of the day skulking about the lower levels of Angel Island in her best effort to avoid Willow. This was despite secretly holding on to the hope that Willow would tear the entire base apart looking for her.

_I don't want Willow to find me!_ she thought, angry at herself for being recklessly selfish. _If Willow knows what's best for her she'll stay as far away from me as possible._

While she had been doing her best to hide from Willow, the round-faced young man with the clipboard had very little trouble tracking her down. He wordlessly handed her a thin slip of paper almost identical to the one Willow had shown her the previous day. She unfolded it to read that her presence was immediately requested in General Quincy's office.

She knew better than most not to keep the brass waiting and wasted no time in making her way there. Before she knocked she wished she had the guts just to ignore them all and walk away. It was a stupid notion, where could she go that they couldn't find her?

Tara entered the office to find Quincy seated at his desk, Commander Boone standing leaning against the wall and a few other high ranking officers she had not had the displeasure of meeting. Also, unsurprisingly, Giles was also standing in front of the General's desk as though he too had been summoned. Tara jumped to the obvious conclusion. Without waiting for permission to speak she marched over to the bespectacled Englishman and stabbed her finger at his chest.

"You told them didn't you?" she accused, referring to her admission that Willow had been sharing her dreams.

"I did nothing of the sort," he said in an offended tone.

Tara bit her lip, immediately regretting jumping to such a stupid conclusion. Giles would never betray a secret she had told him in confidence. Now she had just blabbed the fact that she had a secret to tell. She was beginning to think that her entire world was crashing down around her all because she could not be with a certain, hot-headed red-head. Tara sighed, everything was going to hell and all she could care about was Willow.

With sheer willpower, Tara forced herself to take her place quietly in front of the desk as she should have done before her outburst. She looked apologetically at Giles, the scientist managed to give her a reassuring smile before she faced the front of the room. All eyes in the room were focused on her, save Giles who was staring pointedly at his feet.

"Giles did not tell us anything," Quincy began, he tapped his pen against his palm annoyingly and glared at Giles. "Even though it is his duty to report everything he hears to us." He then turned his distinctly unpleasant gaze back to Tara who held it steadily. "Flying Officer Maclay, you and Captain Rosenberg have not exactly been discrete in your relationship with one another. Did you really think that we would not be interested in how your mind affects her? You know full well that if it is dangerous to either one of you then it is our duty to put a stop to it."

"It's none of your fucking business! You-" Tara burst out furiously before clamping her jaw shut, regretting she did not have the guts to say everything that was on her mind._ You arrogant, cold-hearted prick!_

"Maclay," Boone growled warningly.

Quincy just smiled slightly as though somehow her display of temper amused him. Tara bristled, fighting the urge to throw him a scathing look. Instead she fixed her stare on her boots as though they were the most fascinating pair of boots in the world.

"Giles, we've all read Flying Officer Maclay's history in her file. This renewed influence over others around her…does it mean her sphere is increasing? Just how dangerous is she?" Quincy continued as though Tara was not even there.

Giles had to grit his teeth at their callous disregard for the young woman's feelings. "Tara is extremely sensitive to the Martian presence. It could be that the increased Martian presence around us is in some way affecting her psychic ability-"

"We don't want speculation!" Boone snapped. "All I know is that a boy in Russia was 'sensitive' enough to wipe out his entire village and that Maclay already has a history of affecting people in the same way. Unless you can guarantee me that the same thing will not happen on my carrier, to my crew…" Boone's mouth tightened. "No, on second thoughts I don't want to take the risk at all, I don't want that woman back on my ship!"

Tara's fists clenched, she could leap at Boone…be on him in seconds, smashing that heartless mouth over and over again. She drew in a quiet breath, calming herself. Tara concentrated on Willow, the way the small body felt in her arms, her nonsensical babble when she was nervous or excited…the cries she made during their lovemaking.

"I assure you, there is absolutely no danger to the crew!" Giles was annoyed at Boone's callousness when Tara was standing directly in front of him. "Tara's sphere only extends to those she shares an intimacy with. We used to think it was limited to those she shared blood ties with, but this new development may mean..." Giles' voice trailed off awkwardly.

"You are beginning to think that it may extend to sexual intimacy as well?" Quincy asked.

"Yes, Tara has never been involved in…sexual relations with anyone up until this point."

"Enter Captain Rosenberg…damn that pilot. Is there anything she's involved with that she doesn't completely disrupt? And you're sure they're actually having sex?"

Giles clenched his fists. "I think that is hardly a question for me to answer…and one that Tara should not have to-"

"Maclay, are you and Rosenberg having-"

"I heard the goddamn question the first time!" Tara's warm cheeks were a result of a combination of anger and embarrassment. "Your answer is yes."

Quincy seemed quite unconcerned, he turned to Giles. "What are the consequences if Tara's sphere does extend to sexual intimacy?"

"Captain Rosenberg may very well die,"

"That's an unacceptable risk!" Quincy said emphatically. "We cannot afford to lose one of our best pilots. Maclay, you will not sleep anywhere near the vicinity of Captain Rosenberg, you will not have sexual relations with her…in fact, Giles, wouldn't it be best to keep the two of them apart altogether?"

"Nothing can happen to the waking mind!" Giles snapped. "It would be just cruel to separate them altogether!"

"Still, I don't see how you can let people like her walk around free?" Boone spoke up, still unwilling to let Tara back onto his ship.

"For gods sake, she's a just a young woman. You can't keep her locked away!" Giles had to fight the urge to throw himself at Boone. He wanted to look across to Tara, reassure the girl with a glance.

"But she's dangerous!"

"Only to the people I love Commander Boone…and you can be rest assured you will never be included in that group!" Tara finally spoke up, her voice filled with loathing.

"Flying Officer Maclay, you forget your place!" Boone snapped stabbing his finger angrily at Tara who had gone stark white with fury.

"Oh I could never forget my place with you all talking about me as though I am not here! Have you any idea what it is like to listen to people talk about you as though you are a piece of lifeless military hardware instead of a human being!"

"Maclay that is quite enough!" Quincy spoke up from where he sat at his desk.

"Well I am not finished yet, you p-pompous ass! None of you has any idea as to what you have just done do you? You're ordering me to put an end to the best thing that has ever happened to me!"

Quincy stood suddenly, leaping to his full height which was a good head and shoulders above Tara. She should have trembled but she did not even blink.

"Will it still be the best thing that has ever happened to you when you kill Captain Rosenberg?" he asked in a quiet, calm voice when Tara had expecting him to yell.

Tara gulped, her anger quickly replaced by fear. She knew she had gone too far. "I-I'm not disputing the fact that I have to end it. W-what I am disputing is the fact that I cannot tell her why I am ending it."

"Of course you cannot…that is classified!" Quincy insisted. "Anymore uncontrolled outbursts from you and I will see to it that you spend the rest of the war in the brig - no matter how badly we need pilots," his voice softened. "I've known you for many years and this is behaviour I expect I would have to deal from people like Captain Rosenberg…not you, Tara. You know full well what's expected of you."

Tara wanted to defend Willow with all her heart but the words would not come, not the way she wanted them to. "Captain Rosenberg is…" _brave…heroic, passionate…and I love her more than anything in this world, including my duty as an officer._ Tara sighed and pleaded instead. "You have to let me tell her! I can't just break things off with her and not let her know what the hell is going on!"

"That's completely out of the question!" Quincy snapped, his patience wearing very thin indeed.

"With all due respect, I think we can make an exception," Giles added quietly, Tara had almost forgotten there were actually other people in the room during her confrontation with the General. "Tara loves Willow," Giles said quietly. Tara felt her cheeks blaze with embarrassment but silently thanked the scientist for saying what she could not.

"We're in the middle of a war, everyone has to make sacrifices," Quincy stabbed the desk with his fingertip. "Everyone has...and there's going to be many more made before this is all over."

"Love be damned!" Boone growled in the background.

Tara gritted her teeth.

"Maclay, your relationship with Rosenberg is over…that's an order," Quincy said with an air of finality, he had spent too long arguing over this matter already. "I don't want to hear anything more about it. I've already instructed Captain Summers to keep an even closer watch on you."

Tara ducked her head, cheeks colouring and she sighed in defeat. "What I am going to tell Captain Rosenberg?" she asked in a small voice, almost a whisper as the implications of what she had to do were sinking in fully.

"Whatever you want," Quincy said. "As long as it's not the truth."

* * *

"The decks of carriers on which you will be landing the Guardians are all in the process of being modified to be able to withstand the additional landing forces of a jet propelled aircraft…"

Willow had not heard a word that Giles had said all morning. The pages of her notebook in front of her were completely empty. Ink from the pen clenched in her fist had been steadily staining the palm of her hand for the past hour. A huge yawn erupted and she quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. Last night without Tara she had slept hardly a wink and she was now too exhausted and grumpy to think about studying anything. She just stared at the blackboard, not seeing the words or the diagrams chalked there but instead seeing a beautiful, haunting blonde face.

"_Have you any idea what I will do to you if I don't stay the hell away from you? No? Then I'll tell you…you'll die Willow, very painfully and messily and there won't be anything you can do to stop it." _Tara's painful words were stuck on repeat in her head. Willow frowned and rubbed her temples. _How on earth can I die from being around Tara?_

Willow scribbled a word down on her pad in thick letters - _DREAMS_. It had something to do with the dreams they had been sharing and yet there was something not quite right. In all the dreams she had up to this point, Tara was always there, granted she died…but she was there. Willow remembered being cut, bleeding from her own wounds during those dreams and yet never once had she woken with any evidence still on her body. Willow pressed the dressing on her palm to check the gash was still there, a sharp twinge of pain assured her of that. Something had been different about the other night…the LGF being there for one thing. She scrawled _LGF_ on the pad as well and, reluctantly, _TARA_. They were all interconnected and yet Willow found herself refusing to make any, the implications of what she might discover were already giving her a gut ache.

"Right, I'll see you all in the hanger in twenty minutes time," Giles finally dismissed them, his words were followed by a slight grumble when everyone realised they had just twenty minutes to bolt down something to eat.

By the time she had gathered together her things, Willow was among the last to leave. As she walked past Giles he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder, holding her back.

"Giles," Willow said in a hollow voice. "I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention-"

She was cut short as he grabbed by her by both shoulders and propelled her into a supply closet. "Giles, unhand me I say!" Willow protested, the door was slammed in her face. "Giles…mmph!" A hand clamped over her mouth.

Willow struggled violently for a few seconds before a familiar smell met her nostrils, calming her instantly. She stopped struggling, the hold on her relaxed and she spun around to find a familiar face in the semi-darkness. Willow was struck speechless at the sight of familiar, pale skin. The beautiful blue eyes she knew were there were shrouded in darkness. She felt tears well at the corner of her burning eyes and she had to choke back a sob. On the one hand, she was overjoyed to see her and yet she could not forget the way Tara had left her standing in the corridor the previous morning.

"Damn you, Tara Maclay!" Willow hissed in an angry whisper, the tears falling now as she beat her small fists against Tara's chest. "Damn you, damn you, damn you!"

Tara just let the red head's anger run its course. Tears stung at her own eyes, not from the pain of Willow's blows but from seeing the captain at her most vulnerable. Eventually she wrapped her arms around Willow, she continued to pound her fists even as she was pulled close. Tara held tight, gentle but firm hands stroking her shaking back. Willow's struggles eventually subsided, but not the sobs as she continued to cry on Tara's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Willow," Tara whispered.

"Why?" was all Willow could force out in reply.

Tara drew in a breath. "Willow, I can't tell you now…"

Willow looked up and Tara recognised a stubborn glint in her eyes. "Yes you bloody well will! You can't do this to me…I love you and you…you just walked away from me! Leaving me standing in the bloody corridor without a stitch of clothing on. You're just lucky it was Tad who came along and found me!"

"I can't tell you now," Tara said patiently. "There's no time."

Willow tried to calm down. "Please Tara-"

"There's a DC3 in the hanger-" Tara began.

"I saw it," Willow spoke up quickly.

"Meet me there at two am…and for the love of god don't let anyone see you."

"I won't!" Willow whispered fervently.

"No one at all," Tara pleaded. "They'll be watching you closely."

Willow frowned but said, "I promise, I'll be like a little mouse."

"I love you, Will," Tara whispered grabbing Willow by the scruff of her neck.

Tara then pulled Willow into a fierce and passionate kiss, their mouths crushing together hungrily before Tara wrenched away and opened the door. When Willow emerged from the closet she was already gone. Giles looked up from his post at the door where he had been keeping watch. Willow sighed wistfully.

"If you hurry there will still be time for you to grab some lunch," he said in a kind voice.

Willow just shook her head. "How can I eat when there's a woman like that who loves me?"

* * *

Emerging from the stair well, Willow peered into the darkness of the hanger to see that all the guards were stationed near the planes that really mattered, the Guardians. The huge DC3 sitting at the far end was left sitting alone. It was difficult for Willow to move through the shadows when there were several very well trained guards scanning the hanger. With her heart in her throat, terrified that they would spot her and she'd never make it to Tara, Willow cautiously made her way across the hanger.

Finally, with a last glance over her shoulder, she ducked into the open door of the plane. It was dark inside, only small slits of dim light shining through the tiny windows. A shadow moved up by the cockpit and Willow's heart caught in her throat. She ducked her head as she made her way up the interior her foot caught on a carelessly stowed parachute. Willow went flying face first into the floor of the plane. She looked up in fright, half-expecting armed guards to come tearing into the plane, guns pointed at the pair of them. Willow and Tara both froze for several minutes until it was apparent that Willow's fall had gone unnoticed. On all fours, Willow scrambled the last few metres until she found Tara perched in the navigator's seat.

Tara watched as Willow made her way up the interior of the plane towards her. She was absolutely terrified as to what she was going to say in explanation. All day she had been trying to formulate a plan and all day she had been thinking that Willow would come to the conclusion she was a freak - just like everyone else.

Willow practically crawled into her lap as she sat on the seat, hugging her knees and resting her chin on Tara's thigh as she looked up at her. Tara smiled down at Willow, reaching up a shaking hand to run through her hair. The soft, silky strands flowed through her fingers.

They sat there like that for several minutes, Tara stroking Willow's hair as Willow nuzzled her thigh like an affection starved cat. Finally, Willow looked up at her, green eyes shining with tears.

"Can you tell me what the hell is going on?" she asked quietly.

"No," Tara said softly. "But I will anyway. Willow…no matter how crazy any of this sounds I promise you I am not lying to you."

"I know," Willow said with a small nod.

"There's something…different about me. I'm what people call a psychic."

"Psychic? You mean you can read peoples minds…things like that?"

Tara shook her head quickly. "No, none of that fairground chicanery. It's more that… I'm more…aware of what's going on in the world around me."

"Are you saying that psychic powers actually exist?" Willow couldn't resist asking questions, she wanted to understand everything. "Have always existed? Aware like how?"

"They may very well always have but only over the past decade have we learnt that psychics are attuned to a plane that exists beyond this one, very much like a dream world although much more real. Very few humans are aware of it, let alone can access it to any degree." Tara drew in a breath. "I can."

"Why only in the past decade?"

"Because that is the time frame in which the ability has manifested itself among humankind. In 1922 an alien ship was discovered in Egypt. It was shortly after the alien ship was discovered that people began to sense it…only a very few worldwide. It was very quickly established that there was a connection between the ship and the surfacing of latent abilities in some individuals."

"What is this dream…plane…reality thing?" Willow felt like a moron.

"It's actually much like the real world, sort of like a reflection I guess. Whatever happens here, happens there as well although not necessary in the same time frame or in the same manner. When we access that plane we have the same control over it as we would ordinary reality therefore we can shape it but only within our own physical limitations. The Martians however, also walk this plane although in far greater numbers."

Willow sat up with a look of horror on her face. "You mean what happened to me there…that thing that attacked me…they are there all the time? Tara what if you're killed…I mean, look what it did to my hand!"

"Our studies show that for some reason psychics themselves are in no danger when they walk the plane. However, some psychics exert such power that they draw those around them into the plane along with themselves. It is people like you, drawn into the psychic's sphere of influence that are in real danger. You don't have the tools or the protections to survive because you are out of sync with the dream reality and whatever happens to you there…manifests itself in the real world – much like your hand. Therefore…someone could be killed in the dream plane…and die in reality too. How powerful a psychic is…determines their sphere of influence..." Tara fumbled for the right words "...the extent to which they will draw those around them into this other plane."

"You're one of those people that can draw others in…you drew me in?"

"Yes," Tara admitted quietly. "Most psychics are not powerful enough to have this effect. They just walk the dreams themselves. It is quite frightening and most of them develop severe insomnia but it's also harmless. They have proved very useful in developing our knowledge of the Martian invaders."

"You sound as though you have had to give this same speech many times…how did they find you?" Willow asked quietly.

"I was the first they found actually…because my mother was one. She was the archaeologist who was among the first to lay eyes on the alien space craft which had been lying buried in the sand for centuries. When she touched it she experienced some sort of connection. Even though I was thousands of miles away, I felt it…I felt whatever it was that killed her…" Tara's voice had faded to a whisper.

Willow tightened her hold on Tara's legs, clinging to the blonde.

"I was only nine. After my mother's death I began having terrifyingly real nightmares. I would refuse to sleep and often went for days without any at all. My father took me to see so many doctors and yet they could find nothing wrong with me to explain my insomnia. The military must have been watching my family because shortly after that they came and took me away, telling my father they would be able to help me and I could help them find out what had happened to my mother. They ran a lot of tests, asked me so many questions…I was terrified. Eventually, after I suddenly stopped having the dreams, they sent me home again, especially when they began to find others who experienced the same dreams, the same connection to what had by then been labelled as a hostile threat to the entire planet. I kept having the dreams but gradually my father and brother started experiencing them too. I would see them in my dreams. And one night, in the dream…they were killed. I woke up absolutely terrified and ran to my Daddy's room. There was so much blood everywhere and he wouldn't wake up…I found Donny the same way. They had both been killed in my dream."

"Oh my god…Tara…" Willow felt her own tears flowing and yet when she reached up to touch Tara's face her cheeks were dry.

"I've had a lot of time to grieve, Will" she said quietly.

Willow had to choke back a sob as she clutched at the fabric of Tara's pants, clenching it in her white-knuckled fists. She looked back up at Tara to see the blonde looking up at nothing in particular, her features expressionless. Her eyes were hollow in the darkness, the only indication that she was in fact somewhere else…Her own helplessness angered and upset Willow and she hated to admit that she wanted Tara to cry so that she could at least comfort her.

_She doesn't need to be crying before you can comfort her, Willow you ninny!_ Willow choked again and sniffed, wiping her nose unglamorously on her sleeve. _I'm the one balling my eyes out here! If she doesn't want comfort…I bloody well do!_ Willow hiccoughed and sniffed again.

Willow crawled up into Tara's lap, found a perch and threw her arms around her neck. She clung to the blonde as though she were a life ring in the ocean.

"Will…" Tara whispered, not making any move to embrace her. _Oh god…I can't be doing this…this was supposed to be it…the end of us together!_

Willow erupted into a fit of sobbing, hiccoughing and sniffing. Tara relented and put her arms around the back of the girl sitting on her lap, stroking her tenderly.

Several minutes later Willow was resting her head on Tara's shoulder, her cheek tucked into the crook of Tara's neck. Dried tears crusted on her face but the worst had since subsided. Their fingers were entwined on Willow's lap, Tara's thumb stroking the back of Willow's hand.

"What happened?" Willow asked in a hoarse whisper. "After…after they died, what happened to you?"

Tara sighed and held Willow a little tighter. "I became a ward of the state…which is really just a nice way of saying the military owned me. So from the age of eleven I was raised by them, fed and educated of course…but there were the tests, medical and psychological…for years and years. Mostly they found nothing to test, I no longer walked in the other reality in my dreams…even though my dreams were very vivid, often frightening. Willow, you have to understand what this way of life did to me…my memories of who I was before my mother died are kept alive in my dreams, I remember being happy, vibrant…extroverted, popular at school even…seems a little odd to think of myself that way now," Tara laughed sadly.

"I don't think it's strange at all," Willow whispered, squeezing Tara's hand.

Tara kissed Willow's forehead gently. "I withdrew into myself completely, I wasn't allowed friends. I knew no one except the people who studied me. Giles among them - he was the only one who was kind, who seemed to care about me as an individual rather than just something to be studied. Even so…I barely spoke, just did everything they asked of my without a fuss…ate what they gave me, slept when they told me to, did my lessons, I wasn't really alive and yet I didn't care anymore." It was painful to even remember what life had been like but the Tara's voice brightened a little. "Something changed when I was seventeen. I had a dream about a girl. She was a gorgeous redhead whose name I didn't know, who I suspected was probably not even real and yet something about her made me feel absolutely wonderful…alive again…silly really but it changed everything for me. Even after everything they had done to me, I declared my intentions to join the military. I knew that war would eventually come and after much debating from the powers that be…and a lot of intervention on Giles' part I suspected, they allowed me to join Air Command. Donny had always wanted to be pilot. He had so many model planes hanging on his ceiling." Tara smiled slightly.

_Tara was lying on her back on her brother's bed, watching the model planes dangle from the ceiling, sending shadows dancing around the room. He lay next to her, pointing out each plane, in a serious voice he would tell her its name and make her repeat it. _

"_Okay, now that one's a French Nieuport…it's a replica of the one flown by a famous French pilot from the Great War…"_

"_The war Daddy went away to?" Tara asked quietly._

"_Yeah…anyway, the French pilot went missing one day, he never came home."_

"_Someone shot him down?"_

"_They never found his plane," Donny said knowledgeably. "They say that he flew so high he couldn't come down again."_

"_He's still up there? Flying around?"_

"_Maybe," Donny said, then he grinned as he announced. "I'm going to be a pilot when I grow up…I hope there's a war so I can be a hero!"_

"Turns out I wasn't a bad pilot."

"You have got to be kidding!" Willow burst out. "How can you be so modest? You handle a plane better than anyone I have ever seen!"

Tara managed a smile. "Not as good as you…but I did throw all my effort into it…and it took me a long time just to learn the basics, not flying but being a normal young woman – how to talk to people in normal conversation again. I finally began to sleep regularly at night. Even though I dreamt, I knew I would be alright in the morning…and I got to see you. I managed to get used to being with people my own age again, people who were friends…thanks largely to Buffy, and even Faith."

"Buffy knows all about you doesn't she?"

"Buffy was ordered to keep a close eye on me. I'm not sure exactly what her orders entail but I'm pretty sure that they wouldn't include letting me get involved with red headed flying aces. I'm really sorry Willow, I know it makes matters between the two of you even worse but of course she was given me as an assignment a long time before I actually met you."

"It doesn't matter baby," Willow said quietly. "Things between us were already irreparable and it had nothing to do with you." She drew in a breath, trying to take in all of what Tara had said. She exhaled slowly. "Y-you were dreaming about me over six years ago? But those ones…the dreams we were having…that you were having before I met you…they weren't the same as the one I had the other night were they? I was drawn into…your sphere thing and I could've been killed? Like your Dad…and Donny?"

"The earlier ones, that wasn't the plane, they were just my dreams," Tara finally realised that she had to get down to the point of the whole conversation, exactly why she had disobeyed orders to talk to Willow. "And yes Willow…you could have been killed and I would have woken up to find you dead in the bed next to me. Now please tell me you understand, after hearing about what I did to my family, why we can't be together anymore?"

"You did not kill your father and brother Tara!" Willow whispered vehemently, "They did and don't you ever forget it!

"Willow, they use people like me to kill people in their sleep!" Tara pleaded. "I was responsible…just by being what I am…"

"It's a second front," Willow interrupted in a whisper.

Tara frowned. "Huh?"

"Like in the Great War, the reason the Allies invaded Gallipoli. They wanted to open up a second front so that there would be a war on two fronts, thus weakening the enemy's strength along the Western Front," Willow sat up slightly. "I think that there are two wars going on here…I mean…how can you have two fronts when you've invaded an entire world? There's physical world, the one in the real world and…" Willow pressed their foreheads together. "The one in here…in our minds."

"A they're killing us on both of them…that's precisely why I can't be allowed to be the cause of your death…precisely why freaks like me need to be restrained."

"Tara, you are not a freak!" Willow brought both hands up to cup Tara's cheek, firmly wiping the tears away that had began to fall.

"I can kill those I love…I can kill you." Tara sobbed quietly, her shoulders shook as the tears fell faster than Willow could wipe them away.

Willow stopped trying to deal with the moisture on Tara's cheeks and instead settled for kissing her eyelids tenderly as though her kisses were a balm for such pain.

"No…the LGFs can kill me and LGFs I have absolutely no qualms about pounding into a bloody pulp in my sleep," Willow whispered.

"Um, Will." Tara tenderly stroked the bandage around Willow's palm. "I think you were the one who was pounded last time. I'd never sleep knowing that you might not wake…and I have my orders to put an end to us…together."

Willow blinked, this was the first time Tara had mentioned that she had such orders. The red head was furious that their private lives could be controlled by men with too many pips on their shoulders. She had never been a stickler for orders and if anything was worth disobeying them for, it was Tara.

"I know exactly what I'd say in response to Quincy, I'd tell him to take his damn pen and shove it so far up his-"

"Will," Tara said softly.

Willow calmed, knowing she was dangerously close to yelling and bringing every single guard in the hanger over to the DC3. "Orders be damned, I want to be with you!"

"But I don't want to fall asleep every night and wonder if you are going to be dead when I wake up," Tara pleaded, a part of her wished Willow did think she was a freak and try and get as far away from her as possible. At least then she would be safe.

"There is no way in hell that you are getting of the hook that easily Tara Maclay! Every time I fly I run the risk of not coming back…it's the same thing. We're at war…people die every day often in the most pointless way, it's all terrifying and I would be lying to say that I'm not scared of dying…but do you know what scares me even more? It's a life without you…when you left me standing in the corridor I was more scared than I had ever been in my entire life, scared that you would never come back to me, that I would never feel you in my arms again." To reassure herself, Willow ran her arms over Tara's back in a firm caress, "Hearing your story, what you've lived through…it's all just convinced me that I am making the right decision. I was yours a long time before I met you and if that doesn't tell you that we're supposed to be together then I don't know what would."

"I don't want you to die," Tara whispered hoarsely, pressing her hands to the back of Willow's neck, feeling the strands of her hair cascading over her fingers. _She's mine._

Willow kissed Tara on the tip of her nose, catching a single tear hanging there. "I would rather die a thousand times in your arms than live a whole life without you." _I'm hers._

Tara choked, her grip on the back of Willow's neck tightened. "Oh god, Will! How can you be so goddamn brave just to be with me!" Tara pressed her cheek against Willow's once more, nuzzling her cheek and stroking her hair.

Tara knew in her mind that she should ignore Willow's heroic words as the words of a love sick idiot who did not know any better. She should push her away, tell her just how stupid she was…and yet her heart was telling her to hold onto the woman in her arms, hold on to her as tightly as she possibly could and never let go.

Willow's heart was bursting as she smiled at her lover through her tears. "I can take on the world because of you, Tara Maclay."

Willow pressed her lips against Tara's, stroking them softly. Tara was the first to seek out more, seizing Willow's lips between her own, sucking on them fiercely. When Willow probed delicately with her tongue Tara drew in deeply into her mouth, clamping down on it and wrestling it into submission with her own. They pulled back just a fraction, their lips still touching, breath mingling.

"There are steps we can take to keep you safe, you should…" Tara began but Willow cut her off with a firm kiss.

"Tara," Willow breathed as she pulled back. "We'll be as safe as we possibly can…later. Right now I just need to hold you…please?"

Tara just nodded, her arms moving down around to Willow's back. The two pilots drew each other as close as they possibly could, their heads resting on the other's shoulders, sharing the same heartbeat.

As Tara held Willow on her lap, a million thoughts were all running though her mind and foremost amongst those was the thought that meant she would never let Willow put herself in that kind of danger. It was pointless for her lover to risk her life just by falling asleep in her arms…They would be together though…she just knew that one of the best ways to keep Willow safe meant that she would never be able to fall asleep in her arms again. _Am I so terrible in letting Willow do this…even though it's what she wants? I'm not just terrible…I'm selfish and reckless._

"Quiet baby," Willow whispered many minutes later.

"I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Tad really found you naked in the middle of the corridor?"

"Yeah."

"Lucky Tad."


	15. Soulmates

**Chapter Fifteen  
Soul-mates**

"You seem awfully tense tonight sweetie," Tara prodded an unusually stiff Willow as she lay in the bed beside her.

All day Tara had craved the feel of Willow in her arms and yet now that they could finally be alone, Willow was distant. Their bodies were barely touching when usually water couldn't find a way between their joined skins. Tentatively she reached an arm around Willow's waist and gently tugged the red head closer. The familiar feel of Willow's body against hers felt wonderful after a tense day. In keeping with the brass' orders, Tara had made a point of avoiding her lover. Even though they still studied in the same classes they did not speak to one another, looking for the entire world as though they had put an end to their relationship.

The look on Buffy's face was one of satisfaction but now that she knew the truth about the blonde's orders, Willow could not bring herself to believe it was out of malice.

* * *

Tad had approached Willow, his manner rather agitated and awkward even as he inquired whether she was okay.

"I'm fine, Tad, but thanks for asking…and for yesterday morning, I'm very grateful."

Tad went a rather nasty shade of red but he grinned and said in a thoughtful voice. "You're not the only one who's grateful."

It was Willow's turn to blush and she did so in a most spectacular fashion. She waved her finger threateningly,

"If you tell a soul-"

"What do you take me for? I'm your friend, Rosenberg! All I can say is there's no way that Tara will be able to stay away from you for too long."

"Huh? Tad…we…"

"I was going to ask you if you wanted me to help you out, I mean, I know her friend pretty well so if you want I can get her to talk to Tara on your behalf…"

"Which friend?" Willow asked suspiciously.

"Ah, Faith," Tad replied in a barely audible mumble.

Willow's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "You're shagging Faith! Or rather, from what I've heard about her, she's shagging you!"

"Keep it down!" Tad hissed. "Do you want me to talk to her or not?"

"I think I can handle myself," Willow said in a rather amused voice. "Now I can be sure my little secret won't be leaked out."

"Of course not!" Tad squeaked.

"So how is it?"

"What?"

"Sex with Faith?"

"Oh, um…it's nice," Tad went red once more.

"Nice?" Willow asked sarcastically, arching an eyebrow.

"Um…really nice...capital," he mumbled and very hastily made his excuses.

* * *

Willow would have spent the rest of the day chuckling over her new found information but her mind was far too preoccupied with her own situation, even to think up comments to embarrass Tad. As she lay in her bed with Tara she couldn't let herself relax even though she had not slept in almost two days. Her eyes were fixed on the door, outlined by the weak light coming from the crack beneath it.

"Sorry," she whispered, "It's just that I keep expecting MPs to charge the door down and slap us both in the brig."

"In the same cell? You…me, stuck in a little room with nothing to do? What's so bad about that?" Tara laughed, trying her best to lighten Willow's mood.

Willow wasn't swayed. "I thought they were watching you closely."

Tara's facial muscles contorted into a frown. "They will be…" she pondered.

"Then how…I mean, yesterday we spent the entire night in the DC3 and they didn't come and now, surely someone would know…"

"We've been doing our best to steer clear of each other though."

Tara didn't convince herself, she knew even better than Willow that they knew everything. There was every chance that they did indeed know that she had blatantly ignored orders and told Willow.

Tara sighed. "They know already…no doubt they were curious as to what my effect on you would be. It all adds up…the fact that you weren't punished after the fight in the mess hall with Buffy."

"So I'm expendable after all," Willow whispered.

"I'm sorry, Will."

"Don't be," Willow burrowed even closer to Tara. "I've stopped caring what the brass thinks about me. This whole world is going to hell, why shouldn't the military be as well?"

"It's our last hope Will, if the military crumbles then there is no hope," Tara said sadly.

"I'd rather put my hope in myself," Willow was not about to put her fate in the hands of men like Quincy or Boone.

"Me too," Tara said softly.

Willow shivered, even tucked beneath all the blankets they had and with Tara's arms wrapped around her, she was still cold. "Do you think they turned the heat off?"

"It feels that way," Tara whispered, she rubbed Willow's arm a few times.

"Can you warm me up?" Willow asked plaintively.

"I'm trying," Tara said, rubbing a little harder.

Willow laughed and rolled over so that she was facing Tara in the darkness. She picked up Tara's hand and placed it over her pyjama-covered breast.

"Tara," Willow breathed. "Please."

"Willow, you're exhausted…you haven't slept…and you want to have sex?"

"Of course, who wouldn't?"

"You are a vixen," Tara whispered, her mouth reaching out to caress Willow's gently.

"Make love to me Tara?" Willow asked when Tara's lips left hers. "Please."

Tara deepened the kiss for a few moments, pulling back she breathed in deeply. Breathing in the scent of her beloved Willow.

"Will, I don't need to be asked twice," Tara grinned and then with a serious look on her face. "but if you fall asleep while I'm fucking you…"

Willow giggled and suddenly pounced. She threw back the bed coverings and rolled Tara over so that she could straddle her.

"Tara Maclay, are you trying to spicy talk me?" Willow asked with an arched eyebrow

"No," Tara replied innocently.

With one swift movement she dislodged Willow from her perch and rolled atop her, reversing their positions. Willow lifted her head from the pillow, seeking out Tara's mouth once more. When Tara hung back reluctantly Willow let out an impatient growl.

"Your lip?" Tara whispered, wondering if she would hurt her bruised lover.

"Can't feel a thing," Willow replied.

"You can't feel a thing?" Tara asked in a dubious tone.

Tara arched an eyebrow and her hand descended between Willow's legs. Willow gasped as Tara rubbed against her fabric-covered mound.

"Okay, I get your point," Willow grinned and trapped Tara's mouth with her own again, crushing their lips fiercely together and ignoring any residual pain she felt.

Willow tasted Tara's mouth hungrily, seeking out the delicious depths. She sucked deeply on Tara's tongue, stroking it with her own. As she did she breathed in Tara's own breath, sharing it. More than anything she wanted to be one with Tara, to prove to her beautiful blonde lover than she was not afraid of the darkness that she thought lay within her. Willow sought to banish that darkness completely. To reclaim Tara as her own and in turn, give herself completely to Tara. It was meant to be, this she knew.

Tara moved down to nuzzle Willow's smooth, pale throat. She peppered it with kisses and nibbles before moving down to her collarbone. To pave the way she began undoing the buttons on Willow's pyjama top, slowly and teasingly. Their mouths remained locked together in a fierce, passionate struggle which neither cared if they won.

Tara pulled back as the last button came free from its hole in her fingers. She looked down at Willow beneath her, her mouth wet from Tara's lips, eyes shining in the pale light. With a small smile, Tara ran her hand softly down the narrow exposed strip of skin where Willow's top parted, from her collarbone down to the waist of her pants. Tara looked with satisfaction at the hunger in Willow's eyes, pleading with Tara to seek out the rest of her flesh. She gave in to that hunger slowly; spreading apart the folds of fabric covering her to reveal her small, perfect breasts. Willow shivered slightly as the freezing air met her exposed skin.

"You're beautiful," Tara whispered before she dipped her head to taste the sweet mounds of flesh, leaving a trail of warmth in the wake of her tongue.

She kneaded one breast with her hand while thoroughly working the other over between her lips and teeth. Gently she bit at the tender but hard little nipple, Willow yelped with pleasure. Tara alternated between Willow's breasts, making sure she loved each of them completely as Willow moaned contentedly beneath her. While still working on one breast with her mouth, she trailed a light hand down over Willow's belly. Willow jumped slightly as she was tickled.

"Do you need me Willow?" Tara asked as one hand played at the waist of Willow's pants, trailing her fingers over her belly.

Willow thrust her hips upward to rub her aching mound against Tara's thigh, impatient in her hunger, "God yes Tara," she hissed between clenched teeth.

"Say it," Tara urged, responding to Willow's thrusts by moving her thigh slightly, teasingly.

"I need you!"

Tara began to slip her hand beneath the waist of Willow's pyjama pants, down over her lower belly until she felt Willow's curls beneath her fingertips. She stopped and looked at Willow's face, the red head was hungry with need.

"Need me for what?" Tara asked, rubbing Willow's mound gently but not entering her slit.

"God Tara!" Willow hissed, she moved her hips urgently, rubbing herself against Tara's hand, seeking out more. "I need you to fuck me with your fingers…please!" she whispered.

Tara lowered her lips to Willow's once more, the kiss a fierce and passionate struggle as Tara finally slipped her hand between Willow's legs. The red head gasped and her thighs fell apart to allow Tara better access. A finger probed, found Willow's slit and her whole body shivered with pleasure when she found Willow wet and ready for her. Tara rolled Willow's clit firmly beneath her finger; she squirmed and cried out in response, thrusting her hips upwards as she searched for what she needed next. Tara broke the kiss to look at Willow's face. Gently, she inserted two fingers into Willow's moist passage. As she slid them in Willow arched her back and Tara could see her eyes were closed, mouth slack.

"Willow, look at me," she whispered even as she thrust upwards.

Willow's eyes opened and they met Tara's. Although the emerald green hue was lost to the darkness, they were shining vibrantly.

"I want…to look at you…too," Willow gasped, trembling hands moving up to the throat of Tara's pyjamas.

Willow tried to undo the buttons on Tara's top but her fingers refused to work properly. As Tara thrust up into her a little faster she cried out, gripping the fabric that covered Tara's shoulder. She tried the buttons again but it was useless, they were too small.

"Sorry about this," Willow whispered and with both hands she tore Tara's top open, buttons popping one by one.

Willow's hands then found Tara's breasts, a thin trickle of sweat running down between them. Even as Tara's fingers moved inside her, she caressed them firmly. She ran her fingers over the beautiful, soft skin, brushed her hardened nipples.

All the while they kept their eyes locked together, Tara watching Willow's eyes as her focus faded as she came closer to release. She thrust her fingers up into Willow as far as she could, feeling her slick warmth closing around them. It felt so good to be in Willow, feeling as though she truly were a part of her. She rocked on, Willow's hips moving in time with her thrusts, more urgently now. Her breath came in short, strangled gasps.

"Tara!" Willow let out a groan from deep within her gut as she thrust her hips up, feeling Tara deep within her. "Tara!"

Forcing herself to keep her eyes on Tara's blue ones, Willow gave in to her release. Letting it wash over her in waves, as she seized Tara by the back of the neck. With a firm hand she drew Tara to her, claiming her lips to stifle her own cries.

Tara felt Willow's warm passage spasm around her fingers, followed by a fresh flow of her juice coating her already slick hand. She lowered herself to Willow's kiss, their chests pressing together, slick breasts sliding against one another's. With the contact, Tara felt Willow's heart threaten to escape her chest, pounding fiercely.

With one last brush of her lips over Willow's, Tara drew back. She pressed one hand between Willow's breasts, over her heart; the other still lay inside Willow's moist passage. Slowly she drew it forth, up to her mouth where she tasted Willow's juices on her finger. She licked her fingers right in front of Willow's eyes, every last bit of wetness savoured.

Willow smiled and found Tara's lips again, this time tasting her own juice in Tara's mouth. When they pulled apart once more, Tara rolled off from her perch astride Willow and looked at the glazy eyed red head with love written all over her face.

"Look what you did to my pyjamas!" Tara said looking down at the button-less top.

"They were in my way!" Willow protested.

Protests did not save her as Tara attacked her with light fingers, tickling the exposed skin of Willow's belly and sides. Willow giggled as she wriggled to get away, trying to keep in her squeals when Tara would not let up. Tara laughed softly as the red head squirmed, reduced to a pile of quivering flesh just at the touch of her fingers.

"Who would've thought…Captain Rosenberg, fearless commander of the Red Devils, is ticklish!" Tara teased, finally ceasing her torture of the helpless pilot. "She's as fierce as a tiger in the air...but start tickling her and she's like a little kitten."

"My god woman, are you trying to wear me out completely?" Willow yawned as she burrowed deep into Tara's sweaty side.

She finally closed her eyes, the fact that she had not slept for almost two days beginning to exert its hold over her. Here in Tara's arms, basking contently in the after glow of their lovemaking, Willow hoped to be able to fall asleep. She would welcome it even though even moment she slept she was in danger of being drawn into the dream plane.

"I want you to sleep like a baby," Tara whispered. "And seeing as it's my fault you can't sleep…"

"Tara…" Willow opened her eyes and looked up.

"I'm ruining the mood by talking about the evil curse," Tara remarked ruefully.

"That's not funny Tara," Willow crawled out of Tara's arms and sat up, legs dangling over the side of the bed.

Willow began to redo her buttons, having a difficult time with her trembling fingers.

"Will…" Tara reached up to lie her hand tenderly on Willow's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about Tara," Willow looked over her shoulder. "And there's nothing evil about you."

"There is-"

"No," Willow interrupted in a firm voice. "Absolutely nothing do you hear me?"

"I hear you my love," Tara said quietly.

"You don't sound very convinced," Willow searched Tara's eyes to find a sadness settling there. She gave up on trying to do her buttons at all.

"How can I not be convinced by you?" Tara forced a smile. "Turn around Willow, look at you…you look as though you're about to fall over."

Tara swiftly did up the buttons on Willow's pyjama shirt for her. Willow then allowed Tara to draw her back down into her embrace. This time she welcomed it as it was freezing, her breath showing in small, white clouds in front of her face. She snuggled into Tara's arms, the blonde enfolding her tightly to her chest as she drew her down. Tara settled on her side, Willow pressed against the length of her body. Her face tucked against Tara's breasts. She closed her eyes once more, breaths finally becoming shallow, peaceful.

"You won't leave me?" Willow asked quietly.

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

A few moments later Willow sighed in exasperation. "God…I'm exhausted…but every time I start to drift off something in my mind tells me that I can't go to sleep."

Tara gently stroked the side of her face with feathery touches, kissing the top of her head. "I can sing you a song if you would like?"

"Really?" Willow asked in almost child-like delight.

"It's either that or I go and make you some camomile tea," Tara whispered and Willow responded with a quick noise of disgust. "A song it is then."

And in a soft, sweet voice…still barely above a whisper, Tara began singing to Willow. It was a silly old song from childhood. The words little more than nonsense but they were not what mattered. Willow lost herself listening to her love's voice, a small smile creeping onto her face as she lay in her arms. For some reason she did not even feel all that cold anymore.

Several songs later, Tara was finally convinced that Willow was asleep. Her quiet, shallow breaths made barely a sound. As carefully as she could Tara crawled over Willow and onto the cold floor. Willow did not even stir, even as Tara's weight left the bed. Pulling on her socks and boots Tara watched Willow sleep.

"Sleep peacefully my love," Tara kissed the top of Willow's head, before she tiptoed from the room, pausing only to grab her thick coat.

* * *

"Thank you so much for letting me stay with you, I didn't want to be a burden."

"Nonsense!" Giles insisted fervently as he laid out a heavy down quilt on the sofa, "I'm not really all that nice…if I were nicer I would have given up my bed for you."

Tara smiled. "You already tried…and I refused. The couch is just fine. Besides, I think sleeping on a couch will help me feel a little normal. As though maybe all of this is not happening."

Giles fluffed up the pillow and straightened. "Well, it's not much…but if you're happy."

Tara shrugged out of her flight jacket, remembering to clutch her ruined top together.

"What happened to your pyjamas?" Giles asked as Tara climbed beneath the quilt, he didn't hear her mumbled reply but it sounded something suspiciously like 'Willow-hands.'

He sat on the very edge of the couch as the blonde settled herself into the pillow.

"How do you rate a whole apartment?" Tara asked with a smile.

Giles looked around at his tiny living room. "There was no other way they could get me to come to this frozen little island…although I'm still waiting for my spa pool."

"Willow wants a heated pool," Tara chuckled.

Giles was quiet for a few moments, reflecting on his young charge.

"I've known you for a long time my dear and I've never seen you so happy…which is somewhat strange because we are in the middle of a war."

"I was a mess when you first met me," Tara tucked the quilt up under her chin. "And for a long time after that. You were the only good thing in my life."

Giles smiled. "And then Willow. It was Willow who changed everything wasn't it?" he finally asked quietly.

Tara nodded barely. "Willow is the missing part of me…I need her to feel whole."

"Will she be safe?"

"How far away are we from the barracks?"

"Quite a ways…almost half a mile."

"No one has ever affected anyone that far away," Tara said in a firm voice. "Willow will be fine."

Giles smiled reassuringly and nodded, with a last tousle of Tara's hair he left her to get some sleep, flicking off the light as he left the room. Tara settled into the couch and wished she had thought to take one of the pillows from their bed so she would at least have Willow's scent to keep her company.

Tara had long since ceased to be scared whenever she walked the dream plane so she was not surprised when she found herself there that night as she slept. She stood in the middle of a ruined city, atop an overpass as she looked out over the chaos around her. The sky was growing darker now even though she was fairly certain it was supposed to be the middle of the day. Like gathering clouds of doom…

"It's getting worse," Tara whispered, her fists tightening around the rail in front of her.

She was grateful Willow could no longer be drawn into this reality. The thought of her girlfriend in the middle of this was just too terrifying to even think about. The horrors that she had seen and was powerless to do anything about haunted her every moment, both here and in the waking world. Years ago it had prevented her from having any sort of normal life. It kept her on the outside of society, even the society in which she had grown up.

Then there was Willow…Willow who was impulsive and fiery…hotheaded and almost arrogant in her brilliance. Yet at the same time she was so vulnerable…Tara thought of cradling the young woman in her arms, fragile while strong. She drew her hand to her nose, wishing the smell of Willow's juices remained on her fingers in this place. Tara had to content herself with the memory of Willow's body beneath hers, the feel of their breasts rubbing together in their passion. Tara sighed…what a time to find each other. Just as the whole world was falling apart and when any day might be their last.

Tara saw movement down below her and her gut wrenched…more killing. However, even as she went to turn away so she did not have to watch she saw a flash of red hair.

"Oh god…it's not possible…Willow!"

Three Martians were chasing her; they were gaining steadily as they loped along with huge steps.

"Willow!" they were too far away for her voice to carry.

Tara clenched the rail in front of her even tighter, until her knuckles went white. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly…it did not always work but now more than ever she had to wake up then and there.

"Wake up…wake up, wake up!"

She gritted her teeth.

"Wake up!"

Tara sat up and threw back the quilt as she swung her legs onto the floor. She paused only long enough to pull on her boots and grab a nearby sweater to pull on over her torn pyjama top. She sprinted out the door, running as fast as she possibly could back to the barracks.

* * *

Willow blinked, she was dreaming.

_Okay, is this the good sort of dream with naked Tara trying to find me so she can punish me for being a bad girl…or is it the type that can kill you…because I know which one I'd prefer._

A scream rent the air and her questions were answered. At least she was wearing clothes instead of her pyjamas…Willow frowned, that was weird in itself. Willow sighed and scanned her surroundings, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She spun around to see three of them moving towards her…just as huge and scary as the first time she had the distinct displeasure of running into one. Willow took a step backwards, looking for an avenue to make her escape…a hole she could crawl into and hide?

Turning she sprinted down the street as fast as she could. Willow's feet flew over the uneven ground as she ran. Every time she looked over her shoulder they were still right there.

_You like it now don't ya_, she thought angrily. _Just wait until we meet and I'm in my new-fangled plane…then we'll all see who's laughing you stupid fuckers!_

Willow went running into the ruined foyer of what once was a tall skyscraper. Her feet slipped in something spread across the marble and she went crashing to the floor, continuing to slide even as she fell. It was a huge puddle of blood, Willow looked down at herself…covered in rich, red blood. It was then that the smell assaulted her nostrils and she almost vomited then and there. There was no time as her pursuers ran into the foyer, stopping when they saw her lying on the ground. Willow tried to scramble to her feet but she kept slipping in the gore around her.

They advanced, spreading out slightly so she had three different angles to keep a track of.

"Um, hi," Willow whispered. "Don't suppose we could work this out with a nice little chat…no?" her fingers clawed uselessly at the ground. "Maybe we could do this again sometime when I have grenades…my plane?"

They were all focused on her but Willow suddenly felt drawn to one of them, their eyes locking together in some sort of connection. Willow frowned and was then suddenly assaulted by fragments of images, words filling her mind. Hate…destruction, the world was in darkness, silent and empty. There were dozens of strange worlds. Willow saw dozens of images of different alien species flash before her eyes. Everything flashing so fast before her eyes that she winced, pressing her hands to her temples as she tried to get them out of her head.

It stopped as suddenly as it started, leaving Willow dizzy and disorientated. They moved closer…Willow shook her head, feeling not only terrified but angry and violated. There was nothing redeeming about the creatures who advanced on her…they were evil to their very black cores. Willow didn't care why they slaughtered the populations of entire planets…all she wanted was to get them off her own.

_Easier said than done,_ Willow thought, she couldn't see anything she could use as a weapon anywhere, there was nothing but blood…soon to be added to with her own.

The middle one advanced on her, obviously deducing that she was not at all a threat. Willow felt her heart hammering in her chest, blood boiling with fear.

_I don't want to die this way! _Willow thought desperately. _Without a fight…oh god…I just want to live…I just want to see Tara again._

With an angry, animal-like roar Willow threw herself at the nearest one. She took it completely by surprise, sending it crashing to the ground. Her anger added power to her inadequate body weight. The two bodies, one Martian and one human slipped on the bloody ground. Willow came crashing down atop her foe, even as she did she had no idea what she was doing. She scrambled to her feet and ran over it as she made her way back the way she had just came. Hands grabbed her from either side before she could make her escape. She felt harsh talons tearing into her tender flesh.

* * *

Tara practically broke down the door, she threw her shoulder against it and fell into the room. She flicked on the light switch to reveal Willow thrashing from side to side in her bed, the covers strewn on the floor.

She threw herself across the few feet that separated them, grabbing the smaller girl by the shoulders she shook her roughly.

"Will!"

Willow's eyes flew open, darting about it terror for a few moments before they came to rest on Tara.

"Tara," she whispered.

Tara's arms tightened around her small frame, clutching at her sweat soaked pyjamas. She buried her face in Willow's neck, in her hair…hands running over her body checking to see that she was not hurt in any way.

Willow just lent her chin on Tara's shoulder, she stared blankly. Not quite realising where she was, just knowing that Tara was here and she was safe.

"I woke up," Willow whispered.

Tara folded Willow into her breast, stroking sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes with a gentle touch. She sniffed back her tears angrily.

"I know. You woke up and you're fine."

"No," Willow shook her head weakly. "I woke up…and you weren't here."

Tara remembered her promise and she bit her lip awkwardly as Willow looked up at her. "I thought you would be safe…I put more distance between us than was necessary and yet I still drew you in."

"More than was necessary?" Willow asked with a small frown.

"Even the most powerful have never affected anyone more than hundred meters away, not in ten years of study. Giles' place is almost a half a mile from here."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I don't think you'll be safe anywhere," Tara whispered.

Willow tightened her grip on Tara's sweater, her small fists bunching up the wool. "I don't want to be safe. I want to be with you. Tara, look at me and tell me no matter what happens you won't leave me out of some stupid notion that you can protect me by staying away from me…Tara?"

"I can't promise that Will…and you shouldn't ask me to."

"I can and I just did…now what's your answer?"

"W-Will…" Tara's voice broke.

"Promise me?"

"I do," Tara whispered.

"Was that an 'I do' but really I don't?" Willow asked cautiously.

"That was an 'I do' because I love you, Will."

Willow let Tara draw her back down, the covers were tucked around her but she knew she would not be able to fall asleep again…if ever again.

Her chin resting on the top of Willow's head, Tara stroked her arm softly, all the while trying to cry as softly as she could. It was impossible however, after a few moments Willow felt her shaking and then a choked back sob emerged from her throat. Willow reversed their positions so that she was the one cradling Tara in her arms.

"One day…all of this is going to be a really bad memory," Willow whispered fervently. "So bad that we'll have to have sex constantly to get rid of it."

Tara laughed through her tears, choking slightly. "Vixen."


	16. Loss of Innocence

**Chapter Sixteen**  
**Loss of Innocence**

**Oregon, 1922**

Breakfast that morning was a silent affair. Tara and Donnie sat at the table while their father busied himself at the stove. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the air with a rich scent but only Donnie looked excited at the prospect of eating it. All Tara could do was stare at her plate. When her father deposited a generous slice of bacon and a helping of scrambled eggs, she did not even offer her thanks. As he moved around the table to Donnie, Tara looked up him closely. He was so old! There were deep lines creasing his forehead where less than half a year ago there had been none. Even his tousled blonde hair had now lost its shine, looking dulled with age. A few grey hairs had now begun to appear at his temples. Tara poked absently at her eggs. It was her fault that he looked so old.

The family's cosy little world had collapsed on the day the police came to tell them about her mother. As if losing a wife and mother were not bad enough, Tara had been taken away by the military. The months spent being studied, away from her father and brother, had been horrible beyond description. Yet even after she had come home things had been far from normal. The small girl was terrified. At every moment she expected the strange men in uniforms to swoop down and take her away again. Although the next time they came, Tara knew that they would never let her go.

"Eat up sweetheart," he father urged.

Tara looked up, he was attempting a smile. She stabbed half-heartedly at a piece of bacon and put it in her mouth, chewing as though it were a tasteless piece of cardboard. She then gently placed the fork on the side of her plate.

"I'm not hungry, Daddy," she whispered, her stomach felt as though it were churning.

"I'll eat it!" Donnie piped up. His appetite was still the healthy one of a young boy fast approaching adulthood.

Tara pushed her plate across the table to her brother and took a small sip of her juice instead.

Robert Maclay looked worriedly at his young daughter. Ever since she had returned she had been withdrawn, her appetite almost non-existent. He sighed and looked back to his son who was already polishing off the last of Tara's bacon. If anyone could succeed in pulling Tara out of her misery it was her older brother.

Robert glanced up at the clock on the mantel and rose to collect the lunch tin from the kitchen bench. He knew that Donnie would forget it if he did not put it in his satchel.

He managed a small smile as Donnie pushed his plate aside, sculling back his juice. "Hurry up or you'll be late for school, son."

"Isn't Tara coming as well?" Donnie asked with a glance at his little sister.

"No…not for a while at least," their father replied quietly.

A few minutes later Tara watched as Donnie waved goodbye over his shoulder before he broke into a run to catch up with his friends who were further down the road. She sighed and looked up at her father standing next to her on the porch.

"Daddy," she whispered quietly. "I want to go back to school."

"But don't you want to stay here with me?" he asked gently.

Tara wanted to say that she missed her friends and her teacher but she just smiled and slipped her hand inside her father's huge, leathery one. She gripped it tightly. "Of course."

* * *

Later that day, both Donnie and Tara were attending to their chores around the family farm. Tara sat astride a fence as she polished the saddle in front of her. Donnie was shovelling manure with a scowl on his face - it was not his favourite chore.

"How was school? What did you learn?" she asked to break the awkward silence that had been hanging between them.

"It was boring," Donnie wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "School's always boring. I don't understand why you don't think so as well."

"I like school," Tara shrugged.

"Aggie, Francis and that freckle-faced girl were asking after you at lunch. Your friends are such giggling idiots."

"You like Aggie," Tara replied knowingly.

"I don't like stupid little girls!" Donnie snapped, although a grin was beginning to form on his face.

He stood the shovel up against the wall and admired his handiwork in the corral with a sigh of satisfaction. "Come on, I'm done. Let's go inside, wash up and then you can do my homework for me."

"Really?" Tara asked eagerly.

"Sure," Donnie reached up and helped Tara down from her perch.

* * *

Tara woke with a cry on her lips. She was shivering and soaked in sweat from head to toe. Her breath came in short, frantic gasps as though she could not get enough air. It had been the worst nightmare by far. She had watched as the big, scary monsters killed her Daddy and Donnie. Everything had seemed so real, their screams…her own helplessness. She shifted uncomfortably and realised with embarrassment that she had wet her bed for the first time since she was an infant. Tara sniffed back the tears that threatened to come and shuffled out of bed. Feeling even younger than her years, Tara padded out of her room and down the hallway to her fathers room. He slept in the big bed which he had once shared with her Mommy. Maybe she could sleep the rest of the night tucked in his arms, at least that way she would feel safe.

She stopped in the doorway, faint light revealing nothing but shadows. It was eerily quiet…her Daddy usually snored softly.

"Daddy," she spoke up clearly as she moved farther into the room, closer to the bed. "Daddy…" she lowered her voice to a whisper in case Donnie was awake and overheard her. "I wet my bed." There was no sound from the bed. She felt blindly and her hands found the edge of the mattress. She keep moving upwards until she found a foot. Tara shook it but still there was no response. "D-daddy?" she ran her hand up his leg but something was wrong.

Tara drew her hand away and felt something hot and sticky covering it. She began to tremble uncontrollably as she tried to find the lamp. Her foot kicked the dresser and she yelped in pain. Her hand closed over the shape of the lamp and she flicked the switch on. The room was bathed in a soft light and yet darkness met her gaze.

Her father lay on his back in a pool of blood on the bed. Sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling, mouth slightly open as though he was surprised. Tara ran her eyes over his body. His stomach was a mess of intestine and torn flesh. There was so much blood everywhere. Tara stared at the horrible sight in shock for a few moments while she was trying to comprehend what she was seeing. She knew that he was dead.

Tara fell to the floor in a limp heap and her stomach heaved, she vomited on the floor and lay dry-heaving for several minutes. She then stumbled to her feet and ran in an awkward lurching gait to Donnie's room.

"Donnie, Donnie, wake up!" she flicked on the light switch and was met with a similar sight to the one in her father's room.

Tara took a few steps towards the bed, willing that what she was seeing was all some kind of illusion or even a nasty trick. It was not so.

She stumbled back into the hall, her eyes darting from her brother's doorway to her father's. She had to do something, call someone - the doctor? Tara finally let out a broken sob. They did not need a doctor, they were dead! The sobs then came fast and furious until she started choking. She collapsed to the floor and huddled into a ball, rocking backwards and forwards.

_It's a dream…they're okay, it's a dream._

She repeated it over and over yet knowing full well that her nightmare had become a reality. Her whole world had been ripped out from beneath her and nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

**The Present**

Willow stood casually with her arms folded as Giles briefed them before their very first actual flight in the Guardian. The group of pilots stood shivering on the side of Angel Island's runway as the bespectacled scientist offered them a few last words of wisdom. Given that they had already spent the last two weeks undergoing extensive training on every aspect of the jet-propelled aircraft, there was very little he could say now that would make any difference.

Willow was itching all over. She just wanted to be behind the controls that she knew so well yet had never actually tested in flight. She was fairly bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation, willing Giles to hurry up with his spiel. She stood next to Tara, the blonde as calm as ever, especially in light of what had happened between them during the past two weeks. The brass had predictably turned a completely blind eye to their very continued relationship. Willow and Tara were able to blatantly flaunt their love for one another…well, as much as too women who wanted to be private about their relationship could possibly flaunt it. They knew they were being watched closely and yet both had since ceased to care as long as they were allowed to be together.

On a more personal note, Tara had begun instructing Willow on ways to stay safe while she walked the dream plane at night. Tara was sure that the LGFs could sense fear. It drew them like moths to a flame. While it was almost impossible to ask Willow to not be scared at finding herself in a place where monsters hunted to kill, she knew at least that she could mask her fear by holding on to images of Tara.

Willow was beginning to get an idea of the randomness of the dream walks when two weeks passed and she had not been drawn in once. This was despite falling asleep in Tara's arms every night of those two weeks. Hence the reason the redhead was feeling almost perky that morning.

She glanced across to Tara, fearing that Giles would never shut up, to find a dark mask over the blonde's face. Her usually expressive blue eyes were stony, cold. When Willow reached out a gentle hand and laid it on her shoulder Tara flinched away.

"Baby?" Willow asked in a whisper.

Tara looked at Willow and blinked as though she had just been somewhere very far away. Her eyes were misty but they quickly cleared.

"Are you alright?" Willow asked softly.

"Yeah," Tara replied in an uncharacteristically vacant voice.

Willow frowned concernedly and tried to touch Tara again. She eased her gloved hand into Tara's, fingers gently prodding their way between hers. Just as she thought Tara was going to clench her fist and shut her out completely, the fingers relaxed and gradually entwined. Willow tightened her grip in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture.

One corner of Tara's lips curled upward ever so slightly, "You're cute when you're concerned. I'm fine, really, just got lost in my thoughts for a little while."

Tara's smile was infectious and Willow found herself responding with one of her own. Mischievous thoughts floated unbidden, but certainly not unwelcome, into her head.

"Captain Rosenberg," Giles suddenly turned his attention to Willow and the red head looked away from Tara with a fright. Giles continued with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Since you seem to be so intent on being somewhere else then you can be the first to go up."

Willow gaped for a split second before a grin spread across her face. "I love you so much right now, Giles."

* * *

Tara stood on the wing while she strapped Willow into the cockpit of the Guardian. She resisted the temptation to lean down and plant her lips on Willow's in a manner most unbecoming professional fighter pilots. She had to settle for a tight-lipped smile that betrayed her nervousness.

"Okay, Will…no stupid stunts alright?" She double checked the straps to make sure they were as tight as possible. Willow gave her a 'look' and Tara managed an uneasy grin. "Alright hot shot, no life-endangering stunts then. I'd rather have you back to me in full working order."

Willow grinned and winked playfully, Tara patted her on her helmet before jumping down from the wing. She turned and waved even as Willow slammed the cockpit shut. She ran back to the side of the runway to stand with Giles and the other pilots.

"Fingers crossed," Giles said in barely a whisper.

Tara looked up at him sharply. "Fingers crossed?"

"Well…it is a very tricky aircraft to handle and there has not been near enough time for the proper training. I'm just curious as to how this flight will go."

"Giles!" Tara snapped, thumping the scientist in the shoulder.

Anxious eyes turned back towards the jet. The engines had since fired up and it was taxiing to the end of the runway. Tara held her breath as the engines gunned in a deafening roar, she could just see Willow in the cockpit. She felt the urge to run out into the middle of the tarmac and stop the plane from taking off, stop Willow from flying in that death trap.

With a roar it swiftly accelerated, shooting past the onlookers and then up into the sky. It climbed sharply and at the top of the climb, the jet banked sharply and circled the airfield smoothly. Just as Tara's racing heartbeat was slowly beginning to return to normal the plane flipped over suddenly and she let out an involuntary squeal. Heads turned to look at her before turning back as the Guardian performed a perfect barrel roll

"Oh…my…god," Tara whispered. "She's trying to give me a heart attack."

Even in the pale winter sunlight, Tara had to squint as she watched the now tiny shape high above their heads. She watched as Willow rolled the jet over onto its back and then down into the beginnings of a large loop. It flattened out perilously close to the ground and with a roar came closer until it swooped over their heads. Tara's hair swirled about her face and she had to hold it back with her hand. With the annoying strands out of hair out of her face she watched as the steely plane slowly circled back into land. With the screeching and squealing of tyres the wheels grounded and the jet went screaming past even as it started slowing.

Gradually it lost its tremendous speed and near the end of the runway the plane turned about. It came to a rest adjacent to the group and in a few moments the pair of engines were silent save for the hiss of escaping gases as they cooled. The cockpit slid backwards and Tara saw the flash of red hair as Willow pulled her helmet off. She made to break into a run towards the plane but stopped herself. The last thing she needed was to make a scene in front of her comrades over such a silly thing. Instead she waited calmly as Willow leapt down from the cockpit and started walking towards them. She was still a few meters away when she stumbled and fell forward onto her hands and knees. Tara was at her side in a heartbeat, reaching down to support her around her shoulders.

"Willow?" she asked worriedly.

The redhead's sweat-covered face broke into a huge grin. "That was amazing!"

* * *

Willow was smiling broadly as she made her way back to the barracks after a late night trip to the kitchens to grab a few snacks for her and Tara. For some reason she always felt hungry at this time of night. Tara jokingly said that her body was storing up on energy for their late night activities and Willow had to agree with her. She took a bite from her sandwich and almost spat it back out again when she saw Buffy leaning against the side of the corridor up ahead.

"Still spying on me and Tara?" Willow quickly swallowed her mouthful, the sandwiches in her hands preventing her from assuming a more offensive stance.

"No…just waiting for you,' Buffy replied in an even voice, as though she were fighting to keep a reign on her temper.

"Well?" Willow arched an eyebrow.

"There is something that I've been meaning to talk to you about. Have you got a moment?"

Willow looked down at the sandwiches in her hands and then wistfully thought of her beautiful girlfriend waiting in bed for her. Talking to her former best friend was not on her list of fun things to do for the night. She sighed. "Sure. Spill."

"I know things between us haven't exactly been hugs and puppies since…well, for a long time now," Buffy said quietly, tugging her jacket tightly around her.

"Ah, Buffy…that's a little bit of an understatement don't you think?" Willow snipped back.

"I used to want you dead," Buffy admitted honestly.

"That's more like it," Willow nodded emphatically. "Don't you still want me dead?"

Buffy shook her head, a little sadly. "Willow, I know you have every right to be angry with me but please don't make this any harder than it already is."

"Sorry," Willow mumbled and took a massive bite of her sandwich to help keep herself quiet.

"After…everything…I was so angry. Well, angry doesn't even begin to cover it really. The fury I felt towards you blinded me to the things that should have been so obvious at the time. I blamed the accident on you and yet there was no way it could have been your fault. Willow, you're the best pilot I know a-and if there had been anything that you could have done to prevent it…" Buffy forced the words out as though each one was a struggle. She paused to draw in a deep breath. "I used to want you dead…but the more I thought about it…the less I realised I wanted it…until one day I didn't want it at all…one day, I missed you a-and t-then you and Tara…happened."

"If I remember correctly, which I do, you practically tried to break us up!" Willow spat angrily. "In case you forgot…you beat me into a bloody pulp because of it…and hello! Ouch!"

"You want to fight some more?" Buffy asked in a resigned voice, her shoulders slumping slightly.

Willow saw the look on the blonde's face and her anger faded until it was replaced by empathy. She knew exactly where Buffy was coming from. They were in the middle of a war and they were quarrelling as though they were at high school.

"No," Willow replied in a small voice. "But I don't see where you were coming from, trying to ruin the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Willow…you don't understand, you didn't know anything about Tara…about what she could do to those she loved…and she loved you from the moment she saw you. I feared for you."

"You tried to break us up…to save my life?" Willow asked incredulously.

"To save both of you actually. You didn't know Tara before, Will. She couldn't say boo to a mouse."

"Buffy-"

"No, Will, please let me finish. I knew Tara when she could not say a single word without stuttering and being in a room with more than five people in it made her break out in a sweat. She was so scared of everything…I wanted to help her straight away but of course she wouldn't let me," Buffy smiled slightly in remembrance. "We were stuck together on an overnight exercise, completely lost-"

"I remember you were pretty good at getting people through those," Willow added.

"Well, to cut a long story short, I know who Tara was…and I know who she is now. She's happy now. In the middle of all this misery, she's happier that I've ever seen her…and it's all because of you. She loves you Willow…for who you are…despite your temper and your womanising past…unless you neglected to tell her that little aspect of your past?" There was a hint of amusement in Buffy's voice, remembering all the times they had spent dancing and drinking at clubs.

Willow blushed slightly. "She knows…some of it." She tightened her lips again. "So…a little realisation and no more bitchy Buffy? Forgive me if I seem a little less than fully convinced but Buffy…I'm not stupid."

Buffy's face was serious once more. "I had my orders and a friend that I wanted to protect more than anything but in the past few weeks, well, yes there was the realisation, most importantly that…it's not my job to protect Tara, it's yours."

Willow saw a warmth in Buffy's gaze she had not seen for a long time. "She's in good hands, trust me."

"I know she is," Buffy replied quietly.

Willow felt her stern gaze soften and for a moment she felt like they were both five years younger and everything was back to normal. She took a step towards Buffy.

"Buffy, if it could have been me instead of Dawn-"

"Willow..." To Willow it sounded as though Buffy were about to launch into yet another a tirade about how it was her fault Dawn had died. "I…know." t sounded forced and yet it was what Willow had been waiting five years to hear.

Willow impulsively threw her arms around the shorter woman and the sandwiches squashed against Buffy's back.

"Will, thanks but get off me, I think there's another woman you would much rather be hugging right now."

Willow drew back and looked at the somewhat squashed sandwiches in her hand. She took another bite of hers. "Still good," she said with her mouth full.

"Get going, kiddo, Tara will be antsy wondering where you are." Buffy smiled slightly. "By the way…that was some fine flying this afternoon."

"Thanks." Willow nodded and moved past Buffy as she continued down the corridor.

She glanced back once to check that Buffy had actually been there and she had not simply dreamt up their reconciliation. Buffy waved slightly, Willow responded with one of her own, inadvertently flinging cheese to the ground. A small smile crossed her face and she increased her pace as she made her way back to her room where Tara was waiting. She couldn't wait to tell Tara about Buffy…although the telling could wait until after Tara-touching.

* * *

"Taaaaaraaaaa!"

Tara's tongue brought her over the edge of reason and Willow's back arched in the throes of her passion. Her fingers gripped the sheets as Tara's tongue continued stroking and licking, finding every last drop of moisture. Eventually, when Willow's cries had subsided to whimpers, Tara moved up her body to lay along her length. She cradled the still shaking red head in her arms, stroking her sweaty flank with a firm hand.

Willow slowly felt her racing heart return to a moderately normal pace as she snuggled into Tara's arms. The blonde stroked her hair from her eyes and her face so she could claim her lips. Willow responded hungrily, loving her own taste on Tara's lips…almost as much as she loved the taste of Tara on her own. Almost…but not quite.

They pulled apart, Tara pulling the blankets up over their bodies before they began to feel the cold once more. She tenderly drew it up to Willow's chin, the redhead clutched it in her small fist. Tara planted a kiss on her cheek and lay down, spooning her from behind.

"What were you thinking about?" Willow asked as she snuggled into Tara's arms.

"What? Just now?" Tara asked in a bemused voice. "I was thinking how wonderful you taste."

Willow wriggled backwards until their bodies pressed tightly together. Tara's arm was around her stomach, keeping a firm, possessive grip on her.

"No," Willow replied softly, stroking Tara's hand.

"When sweetie?"

"Today, at our briefing…you were somewhere else, far away."

"I really don't…" Tara began and then stopped suddenly, she drew in a breath. "I was thinking about my father and brother…about the night I found them."

Willow did not know how to respond. Tara had imparted very little information as to how her family had died, other than that they had died in the dream scape and in turn been killed where they slept. Having seen what the LGFs did to people firsthand, Willow knew full well that it would have been messy and so terrifying for a small child.

"Tell me about them," Willow asked quietly.

"Okay…my Dad, he…he was the kindest man in the world, of course every little girl thinks that about her Daddy but in this case I was definitely right. I remember the way he would take me in his great big hands and swing me up onto the saddle of my pony. Everything about him was solid, no fuss…just plain, hardworking…and I loved him so."

"I wish I could've met him," Willow said quietly. "Not the pony, your Dad."

"He would have liked you."

"Even though I would have been stealing his daughter from him?"

"I'm sure you would have won him over," Tara nestled her cheek against Willow's. "And my big brother…no one could make me laugh like Donnie, and of course no one could make me so angry. There was one time he tied my favourite doll to the topmost branch of this big old tree we had out back. I could never get more than a few meters off the ground before I chickened out and couldn't go any higher."

"You were afraid of heights?" Willow asked incredulously.

Tara laughed lightly. "I know, seems funny now but at the time I was terrified. Anyway, he refused to bring it down for me and the thought of my doll spending the night up in the tree all alone was just terrifying. I climbed, Donnie was right there the whole time…and eventually I made it to the top. Climbing trees was never a problem after that…although I did hate Donnie for a good two days after that."

"I don't have brothers or sisters, although Buffy and Dawn were as good as…better even because I never had to share my toys with them," Willow yawned and snuggled further into the pillow.

"Sleepy, baby?"

"No, hungry," Willow responded, although she yawned again.

Although even as she said it her eyes closed slowly and sleep pushed insistently at the edges of her consciousness.

Tara stroked her head gently and soothingly. "Go to sleep sweetie."

"I'm not afraid," Willow said quietly in what had almost become a mantra, "I'm not afraid, hear that beasties, I'm not afraid of you ugly brutes."

"We don't want them to hear you Willow…quiet as a mouse remember?" Tara laid her other arm around Willow's stomach. "And remember I'm right here, you're safe in my arms."

"I know," Willow whispered as she yawned and waited for sleep to come.

"Sweet dreams Willow." Tara laid a gentle kiss on Willow's head.


	17. Back in Action

**Chapter Seventeen  
Back in Action**

Despite the biting cold that clung to the bleak rock that was Angel Island, Willow and Tara stood watching ground crew load trussed up Guardians onto the Odysseus' deck. The fact that the planes were being loaded onto the carrier was an all too obvious sign that they were moving out after some months spent training on and around the frigid little rock. The figures in the distance loading the planes were all rugged up like little polar bears, as were Willow and Tara. Life below ground was so cloyingly claustrophobic that the cold eventually had to be braved in order to ensure a small measure of sanity was retained. Tara also knew full well that Willow could not bear to be separated from the sky for too long, even as grey and bleak a one that hung over Angel Island.

Even now the redhead was staring wistfully skyward, her green eyes clearly somewhere else. She alternated her gaze with the cold metal aircraft sitting on the deck of the carrier. Clearly all three of them belonged together, the sky, the plane and the redhead. Tara smiled to herself and wrapped her arms around Willow from behind, although she barely felt her through the thick layer of clothing. She hugged her as hard as she possibly could, feeling a little more of the woman beneath the wool. Willow swivelled slightly and tilted her head backwards so her frozen nose was pressed up against Tara's equally cold face, careful not to linger too long in case their flesh froze together.

"What do you think is going to happen?" Willow asked quietly, breaking the silence between them even though she knew Tara had no more clue about the military's plans than she did, but it had to be asked.

She felt Tara shrug behind her, but her grip tightened once more, it was clear that whatever did happen would threaten not only to tear them apart…but to tear them off the face of the planet altogether. The wind bit at the exposed skin on Willow's face, she hunched over, tucking her chin close to her chest in order to make herself a less inviting target. Behind her, Tara grabbed the hood of Willow's jacket and tugged it up over her head, patting it down securely. Willow murmured appreciative thanks.

"How do you feel about the Guardian?" Willow asked. She looked towards what she was sure was her machine being loaded aboard. She flinched involuntarily every time it swayed in the wind.

"I feel a little more evil," Tara said with slight grin, although deep down she knew it for what it was - simply a better killing machine.

"LGFs everywhere are trembling with that revelation!" Willow announced, proud of the way Tara handled a plane.

Willow sneezed suddenly, using her sleeve in lieu of a handkerchief and looking down in disgust at the grotty mess she made. A broken coughing fit followed closely and she drew away from Tara to double over, her hands on her knees. Tara rubbed her back firmly. The coughs finally subsided and Willow stood, sniffing very unglamorously.

"Damn this cold. I don't think it's ever going to go away."

"You're just upset that it's not bad enough for me give you unlimited sympathy and bring you hot soup all the time," Tara grinned. "It just makes you look terrible."

"Thanks!" Willow said sarcastically.

Tara laughed, pressing her own freezing cold cheek against Willow's for the sake of both warmth and affection. "I still love you though…but if I even look like catching a cold as well then I'm not coming near you without a mask over my face!"

Willow pouted. "Hey, it's bad enough you won't kiss me at the moment without making horrible threats like that!"

Tara kissed her on the cheek, her lips leaving the one warm spot on Willow's cheek. "You're incorrigible!"

Suddenly Willow's warm spot was no longer as she felt a spray of soft snow across her check. She yelped, wiping it from her eyes as she looked up to see Alex grinning broadly. Her squad mate having since recovered from the injuries which he had sustained in combat with the LGFs, although his limp would be permanent. He stood with Spike, Charlie and Barrell, each one with a readymade snowball in their mitted hands. Without further warning they unloaded their cargo, the snow all falling on target. Willow and Tara faced up to the barrage staunchly before scrambling to make their own missiles. In a matter of seconds, there was a full scale assault going on. The sides were no longer clearly delineated as each threw a snowball at whoever happened to be close by. Willow caught Alex with a thumping one on the back of his neck while he wasn't looking and it knocked him off balance into the snow at his feet. With primal cries and no respect for his injured leg, Charlie and Spike leapt on him like small boys…which they weren't. Alex yelped beneath the heavy bodies. Willow doubled over with laughter but even as she did, something wet and cold sprayed down her back as her hood slipped off. Even before she heard Tara's musical laughter she knew who the culprit was, she whirled around and leapt for the mischievous blonde. As the two of them wrestled in the snow they were almost able to forget how cold it was…and that there was a war going on which they were losing.

Not for long however, there was a slight cough above them, Willow and Tara looked up to see Tad staring down at them. His normally comic expression replaced by one that was quite serious.

Willow regained her feet and reached down to help Tara up as well before she spoke to Tad. "It's time isn't it?"

Tad nodded once. "Tell your men to get their things together pronto. You all have half an hour to pack before a briefing at 1100 hours, see you in the briefing room, Captain Rosenberg."

_Captain Rosenberg_, two familiar words brought both the war and her own responsibilities back to her all too quickly. With a last squeeze of Tara's hand she turned to regard the Devils to find that each was already starting back towards the underground barracks. Willow and Tara were the last to venture back inside behind Tad. Just as they were about to enter the hanger Tara grabbed Willow arm and drew her towards her to place a quick kiss on Willow's blue lips, neither needed to say anything…it was obvious. Their eyes said everything at that moment. Willow flashed a small, reassuring smile and together they went inside.

* * *

"New York," Boone said it matter-of-factly, as though it was obvious and he did not expect any reaction.

Every pilot in the room immediately began to murmur to their neighbour, speculating as to why that was their destination, wondering at the significance of the city. At the front of the room Boone coughed angrily and whacked his ruler against the blackboard behind him. Pilots snapped back to attention as though they were all back in school.

"We have received intelligence from units remaining in the area that for some reason they are massing in New York. Their point of convergence seems to be a huge ship. If you please, Private-" the lights in the room were dimmed and a slide projector flickered into life, illuminating the screen at the front of the room.

The grainy black and white image was that of a massive craft, it seemed as though it were taking up the entire sky. It hovered just above the ground in Central Park - the trees around it were burnt and blackened, smoke rising around it. Some of the American pilots in the room expressed their anger verbally, others tightened white fists around the arms of their chairs.

"For some reason this seems to be a point of gathering for smaller craft, almost as if they are coming home to it," Boone continued.

"Like a mother ship!" Alex piped up.

"Thank you for that Harris, although as you can see, it is anything but motherly. It is heavily defended by smaller craft and no doubt a sizable ground force…however, if this war is to be one and this menace removed from our world then decisive steps must be taken. We cannot cower in the frozen corners of the earth while they reduce our great cities to rubble," there was much anger in Boone's voice, and a lot more emotion than the stoic and morose naval officer usually displayed, "Therefore we are going to direct a sizable portion of all remaining strength towards this 'mother ship' as Harris so nicely put it."

"Is that suicide, sir?" a young Pilot Officer asked quietly from the front, his eyes glowing with the image of the alien ship. "What chance can we possibly stand against something like that?"

"I can assure you young man that it is anything but," Boone infused his voice with confidence, and even Willow had to admit that he could be inspiring when he chose. "The fleet will subject the ship and the surrounding area to a heavy bombardment."

"Sir! What if there are people still alive there?" someone from the back of the room called out concernedly.

"If there are…that cannot be helped, we are in a fight for the sake of the planet, not a few lives…you will also have support from army units which had gone to ground in Canada, even now they are moving into position."

"Grunts!" Spike whispered within Willow's earshot, and finished sarcastically. "I feel better already!"

Boone continued with the technical details of the mission, Willow was all officer as she diligently took notes with pencil and paper, although the whole time from the corner of her eye she watched the blonde sitting across the room. They were in a fight for the sake of the planet and it was obvious that when placed in that context their individual lives mattered very little. For Willow however, it was a lot more personal than that…Tara was her entire world and in the scheme of things, she could do very little to keep her safe. Her gaze drifted back to the image on the flickering screen and her eyes narrowed, she faced it…resolute…but not without a very healthy dose of fear.

* * *

_Willow's bootfalls echoed on the chillingly cold metal beneath her feet. It was a familiar and yet alien sound, definitely not quite right. Each step was hesitant because she was not sure where she was. The corridor she walked was inky black, almost devoid of any light save for thin, translucent pipes embedded in the walls which gave off a pulsating green glow. Tentatively Willow reached out to touch one, feeling a steady thrum, much like pulsing blood through a vein. In fact, she did feel as though she were walking through a living entity. In which case, if it were indeed alive, it would almost certainly sense her presence. _

_Each step became even more hesitant, Willow trembled with the effort of walking as silently as possible. There were few other sounds to mask her passage, none save the steady thrum of the tubes and a very distant roar which reminded Willow of the sea. Willow froze when the silence was shattered by a single, heart-rending scream, it was someone who was in terrible pain but fighting it with all their strength. It was just one cry and yet that was enough to make Willow's heart skip several beats. She knew that voice all too well. The cry so similar to one of passion. _

"_Tara!" Willow no longer cared who or what heard her, her pace quickening until she had broken into a sprint. _

_Her heartbeat pounded in her head as she ran towards her worst nightmare - Tara in pain. There was light up ahead, the same sickening green glow that cast such an eerie light over everything. It was both dark and light at the same time. _

_What confronted Willow when she reached the end was enough to send her crashing to her knees with an expression of abject horror on her face. _

"_Tara!" Willow fought against nausea to regain her feet and rush to Tara's side. However a vice like grip ensnared her from behind. _

_Willow struggled in the revolting, smiley grip and yet she could not move an inch. Instead, she was forced to stare helpless at her lover who was trapped, bound to a colossal machine that appeared as though it were draining the very life out of her._

"Lemme go, you ugly fuck!" Willow's struggles were rewarded with immediate release.

However, instead of finding Tara in front of her, she tumbled straight off her narrow bunk on the Odysseus to the ice cold deck below. The light switched on almost immediately to reveal Tara frowning worriedly at her from where she nestled amongst the covers - covers which until a few moments ago she had been sharing comfortably with Willow.

"The Dreamscape?" Tara asked quietly, fearing that Willow had been drawn into the plane of reality where humans were helpless and the LGFs walked in large, deadly numbers.

Willow shook her head. It had just been your average run of the mill dream…or rather not. She recalled the dreams she had of Tara before the two of them had even met. They were dreams which began like honest to goodness dreams and yet ended in horrible, bloody death - Tara's death. They had been Tara's dreams…

"So…if it wasn't the dreamscape then is there something we need to talk about, because you were fine last night and now you're calling me an 'ugly fuck'?" Tara asked with the slightest hint of a grin, extending her arms to pull Willow back into bed.

Willow's expression was sombre, a sight furrow in her brow as she puzzled over what it might mean. Even so, she allowed her girlfriend to enfold her back within the warmth of their bed. Warm arms enveloped her, this time as unthreatening as could possibly be.

They lay in silence for a few moments before Willow cleared her throat gently. "Tara…have you ever had a dream-" she swallowed, not wanting to discuss what she had seen at all and yet it was important. "-a dream where you're hooked up to some sort of machine…one of their machines? And you're in pain, terrible pain…and…"

Willow couldn't continue, she rubbed her cheek against Tara's hand and kissed it gently. She was too preoccupied trying not to think about what she had seen that she did not hear the ever so slight catch in Tara's breathing. She did however feel Tara's arms tighten their hold on her and she rolled over to face her, eyes searching out for any hint of something being wrong in Tara's expression. Tara smiled and reached up to turn the light off, shrouding them in darkness once more.

"No, I've never had that dream. I think you're just letting your imagination get the better of you. I'm fine, just fine," Tara whispered.

"Sure?" Willow asked, nuzzling Tara's cheek. "Cos my tummy is still all yucky."

"I'm sure, no more yucky tummies, promise?" Tara said in a determined voice before she searched out Willow's lips and planted a feather light kiss.

"Well…maybe, but I know a cure that will get rid of it altogether?" Willow traced Tara's jaw line with a delicate touch, moving down to tickle her throat.

"Baby, I'm a little tired…do you mind if we…" Tara began.

"Not at all!" Willow said a little too quickly, nuzzling back into Tara's side, fist curled up into tight little balls against Tara's chest. "I'm sleepy anyway."

"G'night, then, gorgeous one," Tara kissed her on the top of her head, earning herself a Willow-purr in response.

However, as the blonde nestled her head into her feather pillow her gut was like a soup of something foul, it lay heavy and nauseous within her. She had just done something she never, ever would have wanted to do, for any reason at all. Tara was terrified by just how easily she had done it, how simple it had been to pull the wool over her girlfriend's eyes. She had lied to Willow.

* * *

It had taken the convoy less than four days to steam within easy flying distance of New York and pre-battle reconnaissance meant taking photos of what they were up against. The task fell to Slayer and Devil squadrons as the most experienced fliers…and it was also the first opportunity to test the Guardians against the enemy. Although in theory they were just as fast and if not more agile, each pilot had very little experience flying their machine. At this point, it was all very much a game of chance as to who would come out on top.

"Don't forget to go easy on the stick, Willow," Giles was cautioning her as she was standing next to her Guardian, about to climb into the cockpit but not before she gave one last kiss to Tara.

Willow gave Giles a look that said exactly how she felt about that warning and he quickly raised his hands in placation. "I meant…just be careful - both of you."

"And if we have any problems with the planes, we know exactly who to blame on our return," Willow smirked in the direction of the bespectacled scientist.

Giles quickly patted each of them on the shoulder as though he were eager to get away before he dug himself a large hole and made his exit. Willow was left alone with Tara…as alone as you could get on a bustling carrier deck before an op. She encircled Tara's waist and drew her close. Tara smiled and planted a kiss on Willow's forehead.

"That's all you get," Tara watched the look of protest creep onto Willow's face. "We don't want to start a wolf-whistling frenzy now do we."

Willow shook her head, "No, I'm not feeling like an exhibitionist and besides, we'll be back in no time and I get kisses then don't I?"

"You most certainly do," Tara tucked Willow's silk scarf securely into her jacket, straightening it tenderly. "Go get 'em, Captain."

Willow left Tara's side and clambered up the ladder standing beside her plane, before she swung herself into the cockpit she looked over her shoulder and whistled at Tara as she was walking away, "This is all terribly exciting isn't it?" Willow was all confidence.

"Shut up and get in your plane show off," Tara laughed before breaking into a jog towards the other side of the deck where the Slayer aircraft were parked, she gave Willow a last wave.

Willow grinned and with a hand on either side of the cockpit, leapt gracefully into her seat. She smacked into the leather with a delicious thud and a sigh of pleasure. However, even as she nestled into the now familiar cockpit, feeling the leather of the seat mould to her body, Willow felt a distinct urge to throw herself out again and run back to Tara's side. Before, going into combat had just been a pure thrill…but now everything had definitely changed. It was only as Willow sat with her hands gripping the straps of her harness that she realised she was afraid. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt the leather slip from her fingers as she leant forward to rest her head on the instrument panel and drew in a deep breath.

_You're gonna be flying, Rosenberg…it's what you do best_. Willow found herself chuckling at what was a very odd moment. _Tara would argue that you do something else better_.

She lifted her head and squared her shoulders resolutely. A crew member lent into the cockpit to help with her harness and Willow waved him away, preferring to do it herself. The leather securely tightened around her, Willow shifted her weight slightly, knowing the straps would have to hold as she threw the Guardian over the sky. Satisfied she tugged her new fangled helmet over her head, it was moulded metal as opposed to her old leather one. In one small concession to her old Draken, the helmet was painted bright red. Upon seeing it, Tara had jokingly remarked that it made her look like she had a cherry on her head.

There were all too many minutes spent waiting on deck for the pilots to get settled in their aircraft and the deck crew to clear the deck. Willow sat fidgeting in her cockpit until she received an all clear flag. With the flick of a switch the mighty twin jet engines roared into life, the Guardian awoke. Swiftly she moved through the pre-flight checks, something she could do in her sleep. With green lights across the board, Willow taxied into take off position, applying maximum thrust while keeping the breaks on full. As the engines were redlining, Willow finally released them, almost whooping for joy as the aircraft screeched towards the end of the runway. There was a sickening drop as the Guardian careened off the end but Willow yanked back the stick and it shot up into the sky…a sky which was blue for a refreshing change. Once fully airborne she almost forgot everything except for the fact that she was airborne and everything else was flashing past her at an ungodly and yet very satisfying speed.

"Everyone accounted for?" Willow asked five minutes later when the rest of the group were airborne.

The Devils were spread out in a line from her starboard side, while the Slayers were off to port, lined up behind Buffy. They made a stunning picture in the late afternoon light as it glinted off wings and fuselages.

"I'm here but my stomach is back on deck," Alex almost moaned over the com.

One by one each of the Devils checked in, Willow put on her best Captain voice. "Right, we maintain radio silence from now on in, except for essential communication."

When the skyline of New York came into view half an hour later, Willow had returned to a state of calm. For some reason flying served to erase all the worries that had plagued her earlier, while her fears about Tara had not abated, they were under control. Tara was an expert pilot, if anyone could put the Guardian to its very best use then it would be her. Worrying would only get in the way of what they were capable of.

Jarring the layout of the familiar skyline was the colossal shape that they had all seen in the briefing a few days earlier. Alex's 'mother ship' was growing larger and larger in front of them, like a huge pimple on the face of the earth - one that definitely needed squeezing until it burst. Willow led the squadron in a wide fly past, wondering why they had not been met with thundering resistance. She wondered a little too early, moments later a swarm of Martian craft emerged from a door in the side of the ship. They converged on the two flights of Guardians, smashing them down the middle.

"Here we go!" Willow slammed down her visor and from then on, everything was madness, in the maze of sky-scrapers there was no hope of maintaining anything resembling a squadron formation. It was everyone for themselves even as they took careful note of their surroundings and enemy numbers, which was the purpose of the mission.

Over the past months spent training with her aircraft, Willow had learnt every its quirk and rivet and yet she felt as though nothing could properly prepare for combat. She thought it was the Guardian handling differently before she realised that it was the fact she was in combat. She had forgotten the heightening of senses that came with the fact that your life was on the line, such a tenuous thread between her and a fiery death. Even more so than the Draken, the Guardian was an extension of herself, complying to her every command the very split-second she ordered it.

Willow did a careful flypast of the mother ship, taking photos at regular intervals and inwardly smirking at the fact that someone who couldn't even take a decent hand-held snapshot had been given the task. Before she had taken half a dozen photos the first flashes of the blue lights fired by the LGFs went whizzing past her cockpit. She kicked her plane into a tight roll which levelled out barely metres above the structure surface. Willow found herself skimming over it with the satisfaction of forcing the LGF behind her to fire at its own ship as she weaved close to it. Sensing it was gaining on her and with manoeuvrability limited by her position, Willow rolled off the surface of the ship and went careening straight for the city streets beneath her, or rather what was left of them. She levelled the Guardian out only moments before she was about to end up as road kill, very grateful as it responded to the stresses on its airframe with little protest. There was an explosion behind her and she glanced in her rear view mirror to see the remains of the LGF being blown skywards as it tried to perform the same manoeuvre. Willow didn't dwell on her luck when as soon as she regained a little height another latched onto her tail. She was forced to play a dangerous game of cat and mouse between the buildings. The LGFs tracers smashing into buildings all around her and at one point the Guardian was hit by falling masonry. For a moment the controls were dangerously sluggish.

_Dammit, something important has been hit! _Willow half expected to look in her mirror and see half the tailplane gone, instead she was relieved to find controls return to normal…although it was a mere spilt second before she was about to find herself attending a board meeting in an office building in front of her. Having never cared much for meetings, Willow kicked the Guardian into a left sideslip to avoid the building. She came close enough to see her reflection in the windows, a pale white face racked with concentration.

* * *

Tara had lost track of Willow almost as soon as the air battle began, although she knew the Captain was the best pilot in the air without a doubt there was no telling who would come through the day in one piece. There was little time to dwell anyway as she was immediately in the thick of the action over Manhattan. However, even as she threw the Guardian across the sky scape with all the cunning she could muster, and managed to shoot down two LGFs, she could not escape the presence of the colossal mother ship squatting over the city like a parasite. Something inside it was calling to her. It was reaching out and trying to draw her towards it.

There was a sickening puncturing of metal and Tara looked across to see several holes in her wing. She cursed her lapse in attention and pulled upwards into a steep climb to get away from her pursuer. All the while she was praying that the wing would not be ripped right off with the strain of keeping her airborne. Another pilot may have decided to throw in the towel at that point and make for the carrier…Tara was not that pilot. There was work to be done, the photo reconnaissance planes, of which Willow's was one, would still be carrying out their work. Palms sweaty within her leather flying gloves, Tara maintained an otherwise cool exterior as she twisted and turned to evade the deadly blue fire that could tear her to pieces. Inwardly her mind was racing as she was looking for a way to get the upper hand and turn the tables so that she was the hunter…more than anything Tara hated being the prey…except of course when Willow was the hunter.

She gained altitude until she was well clear of the tallest buildings and gave the Guardian as much power as possible. Behind her the LGF was straining to keep up, no doubt also applying full power as it apparently closed in for the kill.

"Don't count your chickens too fast buddy." Tara suddenly cut back on her throttle. The Guardian almost stalled in mid air.

The LGF went screaming above her, avoiding collision by a scant few feet. There was little time for it to ponder what had happened as Tara let loose her last two air-to-air rockets. Although one missed, the other slammed into its fuselage as it turned and the craft exploded in a satisfying fireball.

Tara turned back to the heat of the fray, scanning the skies for both potential threats and for any sign of Willow, hoping to see a Guardian with a red devil painted on the side. With lightening-fast reactions, she let loose a short burst from her cannons as an LGF streaked past and it began trailing smoke. Just as she was about to pursue, she felt a blinding pain in her temples. Momentarily her vision blacked out and she regained it seconds later to find herself in an incontrollable spin. As she wrestled with the controls the pain in her head continued, making it impossible for her to concentrate. It felt as though tentacles were reaching into her mind, trying to pry it open and at the same time compel her towards the alien ship. She fought with everything she had and the Guardian levelled out with the altimeter reading just 200 feet.

There were further bursts from behind and Tara felt the controls of her plane go sluggish, combined with a dangerous loss of thrust. She looked to her left to see a plume of black smoke leading away from the port engine.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Tara's normal flying composure was threatened as she now found herself fighting to keep the plane in the air, she switched on her com. "Mayday, Slayer five requesting immediate assistance! One engine hit, I'm somewhere on the east-side…"

The radio gave a last valiant crackle and died altogether.

* * *

Willow heard Tara's voice come over the com, which was strange in itself as she preferred not to talk while flying. When she heard it was a request for assistance, she furiously poured ammunition at the LGF that had been doing its utmost to avoid her attacks. Beneath such a barrage, bullets slammed into its wing and it went spinning into a building below.

She converged on Tara's location, frantically searching the sky for any sign of Tara's Guardian and she found it far below. The blonde was chased by no fewer than three LGFs. It appeared as though they were trying to force her down rather than destroy her outright. Willow latched onto the tail of the nearest and before it knew what hit it, she pumped it full of cannon fire. Raking it from nose to tail. It crumpled into pieces and she immediately went after the remaining two. No sooner had she done so, then a blaze of blue fire went flashing past her cockpit. Willow looked in her mirror to see two LGFs behind her and out to her right she saw more descending.

"What is their goddamn problem!" she roared angrily, forced to duck and weave rather than continue tailing Tara's pursuers otherwise she would have been shot down in seconds. She cast a desperate glance back over her shoulder in Tara's direction to and her heart wrenched to see the Guardian smashing into the earth below. Willow urgently rolled, trying to watch it to see if it remained intact or broke up on contact. It was a costly mistake, the LGFs punished her for her lack of attention and she was hit, her tail plane was a mess, the rudder barely functioning. Willow swore violently as she went into a spin, she levelled out quickly and dealt to an LGF which crossed her path. Although as it began trailing black smoke Willow realised that she was no longer firing, her thumb was jammed down on the button but she had run out of ammunition. With all her rockets gone and her cannons silent, she would be a sitting duck in no position to help Tara.

"I've got your back, Will," Willow heard Buffy's voice and looked up above to see two Guardians bearing down on her, both bearing the blue stripe of Slayer squadron. "Get the fuck out of here!"

"Tara's gone down, Buffy. I have to stay!" There was no way in hell Willow was leaving Tara down there. She looked for a suitable place to land, a street which wasn't pitted by shell holes.

Willow glanced at her fuel gauge and realised with a heavy hear that she didn't have enough to land and take off, her fierce combat had almost drained the tanks dry.

_Oh god…do I land…what the hell could I do?_ The Odysseus was less than half an hour away, if she could return and refuel she could be back on the ground searching for Tara in a little over an hour. Although she realised full well that there was a slim chance. The blonde could have been killed on impact, or by LGFs on the ground. She couldn't even circle the crash site, her Guardian was about to drop like a stone. With a heavy heart, she turned for the carrier.

* * *

The Guardian's wheels screeched on the deck, coming down much too heavily as the engine completely cut out. Willow had been flying on fumes only. The tail hook catching on the very last row of arrestor wires on the deck before the heavy vehicle ground to an awkward and jolting halt. The plane had barely stopped moving before the cockpit hood was thrown back and a very agitated figure emerged. Willow leapt straight to the deck from the cockpit and grabbed the deckhand nearest her who had rushed to see if Willow needed assistance getting out of her damaged plane. The poor young man bore the full brunt of Willow's panic.

"Get me back in the air in five minutes or I'll personally see that you spend the rest of your service cleaning out bilge tanks!" Willow yelled in his face, propelling him towards the fuel pump.

"Yes sir!" he replied smartly, scrambling to comply with Willow's orders.

Even as Willow watched the frantic efforts of the mechanics to refuel and rearm the Guardian, a million and one thoughts were careening through her mind. She wanted to help them, she knew it would make the job go faster and yet at the same time she could do nothing except replay what had happened over and over in her mind. The image of seeing Tara's plane making a forced landing in the rubble strewn streets of New York…the feeling of being powerless to do anything about it. Her lover was out there, completely alone with the place swarming with those evil beings.

As Willow hovered by her plane, not really seeing anything that was going on in front of her, Buffy's aircraft touched down. The blonde Captain had seen everything and knew full well how Willow felt at that moment. She herself was almost tempted to take the same course of action and yet she could still think clearly enough to know it was a suicide mission.

Willow was clambering back into the cockpit when Buffy grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back to the deck. Struggling furiously, Willow knocked her off balance and Buffy fell backwards, the air knocked out of her as Willow came crashing down atop her. She had to react quickly to wrap her arms around the struggling red head before she took off back towards the cockpit.

"Lemme go Buffy! Lemme go! Now goddammit! Tara's out there alone!"

"Willow! For god sake look at your plane, how on earth do you think that is going to get back into the air let alone deal with any LGFs you come across," Buffy tried to reason with her.

Willow glanced at the tail of her Guardian to see it riddled with holes and knew full well that Buffy was right. However, that didn't make her anymore capable of rational thought.

"It'll fly, goddammit it will fly! Now me go before I make you!" Willow struggled back to her feet as Buffy slightly released her hold.

"Willow, you'll be killed before you get within a mile of where Tara went down," Buffy said plainly and calmly, she played the oldest card in the book. "If you love Tara you won't want to sacrifice yourself by being a fuckin' idiot, now back the fuck down!"

"Please Buffy…" Willow whispered in a weak voice, sagging against the other Captain, tears starting to fall uncontrollably. "She's my everything, I have to at least try."

"She'll be fine, Tara's good at hiding, holed up somewhere waiting for us, you'll see. We'll get her back to you Will," Buffy said fiercely in reply…although she could not bring herself to believe her own words.

The blonde clutched the sobbing redhead tightly to her, knowing that more words would be pointless.


	18. Hell Unleashed

**Chapter Eighteen  
Hell Unleashed**

Tara remembered the crash all too well. She knew full well her Guardian was going down. It was unavoidable. It took all her skill just to keep the plane level as it mulishly tried to flip over on its back - a manoeuvre which would end in a fiery death for her. She elected not to lower the undercarriage, in the rubble strewn streets it was just as likely to kill her as a belly landing, and she couldn't be sure that the wheels were undamaged. Everything was coming so fast. With a sickening thud and a grinding of metal, the aircraft hit the ground. The canopy shattered, showering her with glass and ripping into her skin even though she raised her arms to cover her face. The sound of metal at breaking point before it finally tore was deafening. Tara could have said with certainty that she was going to die. She tried to hold on to the image of Willow's smile in her mind and yet the noise and the pain were unbearable. Then the plane lurched one last time before grinding to a halt so sudden that it sent Tara flying forward against the shattered instrument panel. Everything went black.

When Tara came to, she had no idea how long she had been unconscious. She lifted her head from the instrument panel where it had come to rest. Her face felt warm and sticky as though it were completely covered in blood. She was groggy and disorientated, until her thoughts came flooding back to her in a painful rush - every bit of the landing playing through her mind. Now she knew exactly where she was and that it was not a good place to be. In fact, it was the worst possible place on earth she could be.

Her movements began sluggishly but she quickly picked up the pace. She was acutely aware of the urgency of her situation. Her harness came undone swiftly and she swivelled in her seat to grab the survival kit which, as for every pilot, was stowed behind her seat. Tara yanked off her helmet and threw it out of the cockpit, instead selecting a woollen hat that she kept as well. Finally she snatched the machine pistol from the holster behind her seat and the two spare clips of ammunition - those went into the pack.

As she exited the cockpit she prised open a sealed switch on the instrumental panel and pressed it hard for the prescribed five seconds. A red warning light began flashing ominously and she scrambled away from the aircraft as fast as she possibly could. She had barely run more than fifteen metres before the aircraft erupted in a compact and muffled but effective fireball, consuming it completely. Tara was thrown to the ground, face smacking into the dust on the street - heat from the explosion searing her body despite her heavy flight gear.

_Twenty seconds my arse, Giles!_ She remembered Giles very clearly saying in training that they had twenty seconds to get clear after the self-destruct was activated.

Tara had just discovered that the reality of it was somewhat different. She made a mental note to raise the issue with the bespectacled Englishman when she got back to the carrier. Not wasting anymore time she regained her feet, tugged on her pack and darted into the maze of rubble and partially destroyed buildings. She suspected that the LGFs would be converging on her position at any moment. Tara ran, having never been to New York, she had no idea where she was going. She just had to get as far away from the crash site as possible.

* * *

Tara jogged non-stop for the better part of half a day. The whole time her heart pounded as though it would burst both from exertion and fear. However she would not and could not stop. As night began to fall Tara weighed up whether to press on under cover of darkness or finally allow herself to stop and rest. She made up her mind when in the gloom she tripped on a piece of rubble and went crashing to the ground. She lay in the dust for a few moments as her exhaustion and pain overwhelmed her. For a few moments tears burned her eyes and she just wanted to lie there and never get up. However, she forced herself up, staggering like a drunkard into the nearest building. Tara made her way up to the first floor. It had been someone's house once, another life time ago. The façade had partially been blown away and looking outside Tara noticed trees for the first time in months, one even still had its autumn leaves clinging. She collapsed exhausted on a rug, reflecting on her luck that she had thankfully seen very little LGF action, just a few planes flying above from which she was able to shelter quite easily. With any luck, they would think she died in the crash and was consumed in the subsequent explosion…although she knew better than to tempt her fate by believing that was the case.

There was a mirror hanging above a mantel and for the first time since the crash she was able to take stock of her injuries. Although the last thing she wanted to do was look at herself, it had to be done. She was a frightful mess, her face was caked in sweat, dirt and dried blood from the cut on the side of her head. It had opened and bled freely at some stages during her flight. Although it was not deep it needed cleaning lest she develop an infection. Tara tugged off her hat and dug the compact first aid kit out of her pack. She winced at the sting of the iodine but worked swiftly and soon it was covered beneath a clean dressing. Apart from the cut and very blistered and sore feet from running in her flying boots she wasn't too badly off. She was however, exhausted and drained to her very core. She barely had time to note all the potential exits from her hiding place in case she had to make a quick getaway before falling asleep in the corner of the room on a pile of mouldy cushions.

The last thing she saw before she slipped into welcome sleep were images of Willow, Willow wearing her cherry helmet, Willow doubled over laughing, wrinkling her nose up at powdered eggs for breakfast again, sweat soaked on top of her during their love-making. Tara held fast on to those images and took them into her dreams.

* * *

Night had fallen but Willow remained on deck, sitting miserably beneath her Guardian. She had spent all afternoon helping the mechanics repair the tail plane, all the while allowing herself to believe that she would be allowed to return to New York as soon as repairs were completed.

Boone had refused permission of course, although there was a decided note of sympathy in his voice as he explained that the main assault would take place in two days, as soon as the reconnaissance had been analysed. All ground forces would be alerted to be on the lookout for Tara and any sign of her. Until then however, there was absolutely nothing Willow or anyone else could do. She just had to hope and pray that Tara was somewhere safe, hiding just like Buffy had said.

The Devils and Slayers had attempted to rally around her but she had refused any offers of sympathy or companionship. The dinner that Buffy had brought out for her sat untouched at her feet save for a sausage which had been angrily hurled at Alex when, for the fourth time, he told her to come inside.

It was bitterly cold on the deck, Willow sat with her back pressed up against the Guardian's chocked front wheel, a cigarette clenched in her fist which every now and then she absently raised to her lips. A few more cigarette butts were stubbed out beside her. Smoking on the flight deck was strictly forbidden but Willow didn't care, and no one had the heart to tell her to stop. She half-heartedly wished that the Guardian's fuel tanks would be ignited and she would go up in a spectacular and mercifully quick ball of fire. However, she didn't entertain such thoughts seriously, Tara was out there alive. She knew it and felt it. It was just a matter of finding her and once that was achieved, she would never let go of her again.

She stubbed her cigarette out carefully on the deck, having firmly decided that, no matter her current mood, blowing herself up would not solve anything. However, almost instinctively, she shook the packet to release another. None came to hand. Willow shook it again and again, just to make sure. That was how Faith found her some time later, feverishly shaking the obviously empty packet.

Without a word, the brunette squatted a shot distance away and tapped her own pack of Marlboros to offer one to Willow who reached out and accepted wordlessly. Faith pulled one out for herself and the two of them sat puffing in the darkness, the only sound besides inhaling was Faith slipping backwards to sit on the deck more comfortably. She made it clear that she was not about to get up and walk off immediately. It was some minutes before either of them spoke,

"Can I have another?" Willow asked quietly, having sat fidgeting for a whole two minutes without one and finding she could hold on no longer.

Although she was supposed to be sitting idle in a state of utter despair, she still had to be doing something. The only two things she could think of were smoking and drinking alcohol, the latter being ruled out due to its inaccessibility.

Faith chucked the whole packet at her. Willow caught it and shook one free, placing it on the edge of her lips. When her numb fingers refused to co-operate to strike a match, she was beginning to realise how bitterly cold she was. Willow swore continuously as she went through three matches before Faith hunkered closer with a light. As soon as her cigarette was lit, Willow tucked her gloved hands up inside her jacket sleeves.

"I guess we both have so many bad habits already that adding one to the mix doesn't really matter," Faith said quietly, trying to bait Willow into a seemingly innocuous conversation.

Willow sighed for some reason. "That and the fact that I'm probably destined for an early grave anyway so I won't need functioning lungs for much longer."

"What the fuck does smoking have to do with your lungs?" Faith asked in a heavily sardonic tone.

In reply Willow delivered a look that spoke volumes about Faith's inanity and her own intellectual superiority. Faith just chuckled in reply, far from offended and glad to have prised a little of the old Willow out of the sturdy shell she had built since Tara went down.

"I haven't smoked since…" Willow began quietly and then drew in a breath before eventually deciding that she could mention her name without any adverse effects. "Well…Tara hates it, so I don't."

"So you're reverting back to all your old habits in her absence?" Faith pushed a little harder to provoke some sort of reaction. "Cos if you are looking to start up with your wanton womanising I might have something to say about that."

"I'm not!" Willow snapped suddenly and angrily, taking Faith's proffered bait hook, line and sinker. "I'm with Tara now and that's that. I'll always be with her and if anyone tries to get in our way then by hell I will-"

"Chill Red, chill," Faith was once more thoroughly satisfied of Willow's lasting intentions towards Tara. "I just feel as though she's my little sister, Buffy and I both feel that way. I was just checking."

"Well you don't need to 'just check' alright?" Willow whispered in a choked voice.

Faith looked across at Willow and realised that she was crying, silent tears running unchecked down her cheeks. In the dim light on the deck, they lay wet and glistening on her pale skin. Faith made no move to reach out and comfort her, for which Willow was grateful - she just wanted to be able to let it out. It was impracticable for her to go about her duties red-eyed and morose, it had to be cleared out now in order for her to function as she had to. The fact that Tara was gone did not remove any of her responsibilities, nor did it remove the fact that they were in the middle of a war.

"I hate feeling helpless," Willow sniffed loudly and angrily, dashing a cold sleeve across her swollen, red and runny nose.

"Same here," Faith replied honestly. "As soon as the opportunity arises, I'm going to find her. There's no way I'm leaving it up to a bunch of footsloggers to find, T."

Willow looked across at the resolute expression on Faith's face and knew the Slayer meant it, a fact that she was grateful for. It meant that, when the time came for action, she wouldn't be alone.

"Whad'ya say we go inside?" Faith asked nonchalantly.

Willow nodded, throwing the Marlboros back to Faith. "I'm fucking freezing."

* * *

When Tara woke the inside of her mouth was the consistency of sandpaper. She retrieved her water bottle and drank sparingly from it despite her thirst. A search of the house revealed plenty of water collected in a bathtub which was partially open to the elements. Over her compact primus stove she boiled it with her dried survival rations to create a nourishing but decidedly unpleasant smelling stew. While it was cooking, she stripped down to her waist and gave herself as good a wash as she could manage, aided by the fact that she found an old cake of soap sitting neatly on the basin as though someone had used it mere hours ago rather than months. Tara frowned, perhaps there were survivors here after all.

She cringed as she pulled her decidedly dirty clothing over her relatively clean body and went to eat her food. However, when she turned and took a step she thought she saw something move in the corner of her eye. Tara froze, cursing herself for leaving her weapon with her pack. Searching cautiously she saw a small shadow move on a wall behind an overturned table. She realised with relief that it could not possibly be an LGF. It was much too small.

"Whoever or whatever you are, come out now and you won't get hurt…otherwise I'll count to three and come and get you myself." Although despite the small size of whatever it was that stalked her…Tara wasn't sure that diving in headfirst after it was such a good idea. "One…two…"

Before she said three, there was a plaintive meowing from behind the table and a more urgent 'shhhhh' which followed. Tara relaxed slightly as meowing was about as unthreatening a sound as she could hope to hear. She took a footstep towards the table, and then several more until she was so close she could hear the frantic breathing of someone who was terribly afraid. There was the sound of a slight scuffle and a fluffy grey ball came careening at her. Far from attack, it jumped up into her arms and started purring almost immediately. Tara almost grinned. She did have a way with cats. As she was stroking the skinny little thing, a mop of shaggy brown hair, closely followed by pair of huge brown eyes, peeked over the top of the table. The eyes were wide with fear but relaxed somewhat when they saw the cat nestled safely in Tara's arms.

"Come out, I won't bite I promise." Tara said softly, dropping to one knee to make herself less threatening.

Very, very tentatively, a boy emerged from his hiding place. Although he was a little hard to make out due to his dirty appearance, he looked to be about ten. He was terribly skinny and his rather raggedly clothes hung on his frame. A state not helped by the fact that the suit and coat obviously belonged to a grown man. He'd rolled up the sleeves of the jacket and an overlarge belt was looped around his waist. His unkempt hair was wild about his face uncut. It curled down over his collar.

He did not take any further steps toward Tara but rather regarded her with the hard stare of someone who had seen more than too much in his short years. His little face would have been impish under normal circumstances but here it was very, very serious and grave.

"Is this your cat?" Tara asked, still stroking the very content animal.

He nodded once and Tara set the animal back down. It refused to move away and when she gave it a little shove in the direction of its owner, it simply thought Tara wanted to play and chased her hand. It ended up circling Tara's body, brushing up against her at regular intervals. The boy didn't seem overly concerned, he'd obviously decided that the cat thought she was safe and that was good enough for him - besides, cats were very good judges of character. He cast a furtive glance in the direction of Tara's little stove where the stew was merrily boiling. She sighed and moved over to it, turning the stove off she scooped up a small spoonful and blew on it before tasting it. Not good at all…but palatable. She set it down on the floor opposite her with the spoon sitting in it.

"Here you go then. Careful it's hot." Tara inclined her head towards the food.

It did not take long before the boy scampered across. He carefully picked up the bowl using his coat sleeves to protect against the hot metal. Despite how hot it was, he made very short work of the stew. Tara's stomach rumbled unhappily but she had eaten a very full breakfast before taking off the day before.

She thought he had finished when he set the bowl down but there was a little in the bottom. He beckoned to his cat who was still hanging around Tara. The skinny little animal began to eat, its purring intensified. As it ate, he looked up at Tara and flashed his teeth in a smile.

"Thanks awfully, we haven't had anything to eat except rotten turnips for the last few days…and I hate turnips when they are cooked properly let alone rotten, don't you?" He was very well-spoken, obviously from a well-off New York family.

"I agree, perfectly disgusting," Tara smiled in return. "I'm Tara Maclay, I'm a pilot in Air Command."

His eyes lit up and he talked excitedly. "Were you in all those dogfights yesterday? I couldn't really see it but there was a terrible racket. I thought perhaps they had come to destroy them for good. I got so excited about being able to stop hiding."

"We have," Tara assured him. "And we will, eventually."

"What kind of plane do you fly? I have…had a model of a Gullstrike and a Draken hanging from my ceiling at home. I made them myself…well, with a little help from my Dad but he's dead now, my Mom too." Although his voice was sad, it sounded as though he had been forced to come to terms with his loss already. "I'm sorry, I'm babbling. It's just haven't had anyone to talk to in the longest time, except Mrs Chippy. Mrs Chippy is actually a 'he' though, I named him before I knew what he was and the name stuck."

He stroked the cat gently. It had finished eating and was licking its paws. Tara wondered how on earth the young boy had survived all this time, obviously alone in New York City. He was thin, but other than that, seemed relatively unharmed and obviously very talkative.

"Oh, and I'm Oliver, Oliver Cherry-Smith but all my chums and practically everyone else call me Cherry."

Tara smiled. "Please to meet you, Cherry."

Even as she chatted with the boy, Tara was acutely aware of the need for her to be moving on. She remembered the plans Boone had gone over during their last briefing on Angel Island and the fact that army units would be coming down from Canada. It was her plan to head north and hope like hell that she bumped into one of them. There was no question of her leaving the boy behind. She simply had to take him with her although she didn't fancy their chances.

"Cherry…I'm heading north…I have to try and met up with our army units…I'm afraid its going to be quite scary at times and you're going to have to try to do your best to keep up with me."

His eyes lit up, "Oh, I thought you were going to leave me behind…soldiers can't take children along with them on their missions after all…I'm quite brave and I move fast!" he said matter-of-factly.

"What about Mrs Chippy? Is he brave to?"

"Without a doubt, he just rides in the front of my coat." He swooped the cat up and nestled him securely against his chest before trying to do his buttons up single-handedly.

Tara smiled and reached out to do them up for him. Thirty seconds later, she had her pack on and ready to go, balancing the gun against her forearm.

"Moving out?" Cherry nodded seriously.

Tara nodded in reply and together the unlikely pair started out of the house, both creeping as silently as cats, sticking close to piles of rubble. As they moved, Tara wondered what Willow would think of her now and her strange new companions. A boy who called Cherry and a cat with a decidedly ill-fitting moniker.

* * *

The day and hour had arrived for the all out assault on the alien mothership and Willow stood by her Guardian waiting for the call to move out. The freezing cold of an early winter morning combined with the red dawn of death - bloody fingers crept across the sky as though it were heralding the day to come. As she looked skywards, Willow reflected on the fact that she had never put much stock in omens. She believed in making her own fate. However, as her breakfast sat uneasily in her stomach and she yawned widely, she offered up a silent prayer to whoever was listening.

Willow had hardly slept a wink since Tara had been shot down. Despite this she had spent all of the previous day going over every inch of her plane, making absolutely certainty that it was in perfect working order so that if anything did go wrong, it would solely be down to pilot error. Willow rarely made mistakes in the air.

The take off had to be timed accurately in order to ensure synchronisation with the ground forces. Willow looked impatiently at her watch and the way the minutes were ticking by with excruciating slowness. She looked up from her watch to see Faith staring at her, the brunette having not spoken to her since the night on deck.

"All set, Red?" she asked jauntily.

Willow nodded, still looking at her watch. "Yeah, I feel good."

"How are you though?" Faith asked with more seriousness to her voice.

Willow lifted her head to look Faith in the eye and nodded again, more resolutely this time. "I'm good, Tara's out there, I know it."

"Damn straight she is," Faith replied as though that were the answer she was expecting to hear from Willow. "Smoke?"

Willow glanced at the packet and shook her head. "No thanks. Tara will kick my arse if I'm lighting up all the time."

Faith laughed loudly and lit one for herself. "You're whipped woman! You're supposed to be the senior officer!"

"Not where it counts," Willow grinned in reply.

From the balcony of the carrier's castle, the tall tower which acted both as the ship's bridge and the flight tower, came a very loud and angry shout. "Flying Officer!" Boone screamed at Faith. "Put that fucking light out before you blow everyone to hell!"

Faith cast a contemptuous glance up before taking one last, insolent drag. She threw it to the ground and stubbed it out firmly with the steel toe of her boot.

"Like we're not all going to hell anyway," Faith looked longingly at her wasted cigarette. She then glanced down at her own watch. "Five minutes to go, better get mounted up."

Willow nodded at Faith who winked and turned to jog across the deck to her own plane. She jammed her helmet on her head and turned to climb the ladder into her cockpit. This time she let the deckhand fastened her harness straps as she sat running through her checks.

The last strap fastened in place and the cockpit hood slammed shut, locked, pre-flight checks done and Willow was set to go. Before she fired up the engines she had one last task to carry out, from the inside pocket of her flight jacket she withdrew a snapshot of Tara. Taken during one of their training days at Angel Island, the blonde was smiling lop-sidedly at the camera. It was partially out of focus due to the fact that Willow had been the photographer. However, even Willow's poor camera skills could not make a different to how damn beautiful she was. Willow tucked it to one side of her instrument panel, snagging it firmly in place. She then flicked all switches, feeling the Guardian's engines awake, full of promise. In seconds their defending roar could only just be heard through her helmet but she could feel it through every surface of her body. Her fingers curled possessively around the thrust lever.

From her cockpit, Willow watched Tad as he strolled to the castle balcony overlooking the deck. He raised an arm and fired a very pistol. A red flare soared skywards, adding to the already ominous glow which lay over them all. It was the signal she had been waiting to see for two days. Before she slammed the lever forward, Willow reached out with her other hand to trace Tara's picture gently.

"I promise not to let you down baby," she whispered in the eerie light. Her hand then moved to the stick which she grasped firmly, her com crackled into life as she said in a firm voice. "Devil One moving out. See you all up there."

Willow slammed the thrust level forward. Her arm was trembling with a fierce intensity while at the same time the other hand holding the stick remaining solid and unmoving. She was slammed back in her seat as the Guardian accelerated in the blink of an eye. It rocketed off the end of the deck and climbed into the red sky - a devil with a mission.


	19. The Revelation of Diana Maclay

**Chapter Nineteen**  
**The Revelation of Diana Maclay**

At first Tara thought she was in total darkness. However, as her eyes adjusted, she realised that translucent pipes embedded in the walls gave off a faint, pulsating green glow. They cast a sickening green glow over everything as well as giving off a steady thrumming sound. The thrum grew to an incessant drone in the back of her head, as though it were invading her senses. Tara shook her head in an effort to clear it.

Her boot falls echoed off the cold metal floor, one after the other as she walked down the passage. She began to think it had no end until the light began to get brighter. Tara hugged the side of the corridor and kept her advance cautious even though she knew full well she was dreaming.

The light ahead changed slightly, a shadow passed in front of it. Tara narrowed her eyes to try and make it out. It appeared to be a figure, although it was much too slender and small to be an LGF. As she came closer, light and dark separated to reveal it was indeed a person. Tara could eventually make out a woman's curves, long flowing hair…and finally, her features. Once she did, Tara gasped in disbelief.

"Mom?" she asked in the barest whisper.

It was the one person who never appeared in her dreams. Not even her ordinary dreams which were exactly the same as those experienced by ordinary people. Tara often dreamt of her father and brother, imaging what they would be like if they were still alive today, or reliving cherished moments from her childhood. In each of those dreams one much loved figure had been absent. She had missed her mother all the more fiercely because of this, wishing just once that she could talk to her in her dreams.

Now she was standing in front of her, as real as life. As Tara gazed at her in astonishment, she noted she had not changed a day since the last time she saw her alive, before the trip to Egypt from which she had not returned. Tara's own vibrant blue eyes stared back at her from a face which was untouched by the passing years. In fact, she was almost looking in the mirror at a woman her own age.

Diana Maclay wore a small but sad smile, not the broad, carefree one she had constantly worn in life. Tara missed that smile, although at that moment she was contented to see her at all.

"Mom," Tara repeated, this time in a louder voice. "I've missed you so much."

Tara made moves to embrace her mother but as Diana held up her hands to indicate that she could not, her heart sank but she did not plead.

"As I have you dear heart," Diana's voice was rich and throaty in its sadness.

"I was alone…for so long," Tara ached anew when she thought of the brutal deaths of her father and older brother. "Dad…Donny."

"I know…I know." Diana consoled her from a distance, her hands still partially extended towards Tara.

"How? I mean, what happened to you…you just never came back," Tara had so many questions that needed answering, they poured forth. "Mom, where are you?"

"I'm here," Diana replied, her arms making a wide, encircling gesture at the space around her. "I'm a part of all of this. When they took me, it was all I could do to save a part of myself, stay free in a sense. Now I am just simply here."

"As part of the dreamscape?" Tara asked hesitantly.

Diana shook her head. "Yes…and yet no. I can't explain it, I'm aware of them but as far as I can tell they are not aware of me. I guess I have condemned myself to an eternity of limbo. I do not know for sure."

Tara was incredibly saddened at the thought of her beautiful mother reduced to haunting the dreams of an alien species intent on destroying the world. Painful tears stung her eyes and she fought to hold them back.

"Don't cry, little one," Diana whispered in a broken voice. "Just please listen to what I have to say. I do not know how much time we will have together. It took me years of searching to find you and when I did your dreams were a vicious blend of their dreamscape and your own tortured visions - mostly of yourself and the beautiful redhead."

"Willow," Tara whispered, her voice lingered tenderly over each syllable.

"Willow," Diana nodded, she had already hear her name.

"I had to find you, I alone of all humanity know what has happened and is happening," Diana managed to smile wryly. "If you could call my present state 'human.' I do not want to alarm you Tara…but everything depends on you…everything."

Tara felt her shoulders sag already, and so far she had heard virtually nothing, she barely had the strength to talk. "Mom, what?"

"They are the Juthungi, Tara. A race even more ancient than man…much more so. However, whereas we have also found art and culture, they have dedicated themselves to a civilisation of war. They are warriors first and foremost, which is why they are so very adept at killing. Yet, their greatest pleasure lies in the dreamscape…for killing things in the dreamscape is how they feed, they must do it to sustain themselves."

"I often wondered the purpose of it," Tara commented quietly, she was listening to every detail. "Then why the global war in the first place?"

"The Juthungi cannot simply draw everyone into the dreamscape, otherwise all of humanity would have long since been killed. Without our technology and own weapons to aid us, we truly would be helpless. No, they need people like you…sensitives, who are in tune with the dreamscape and can therefore draw others in."

"So if everyone like me were dead…they would leave," Tara deduced.

Diana shrugged, a casual gesture for such a dreadful statement. "Perhaps…but there is another way to make them leave."

"How? Mom you must tell me, is it something I can do?" Tara said in an urgent voice, she took a step closer to her mother.

Even a she spoke, a group of Juthungi emerged from a room behind them which Tara had not noticed until now. She looked urgently to her mother, wanting confirmation as to whether they could see her or not. Seconds later she knew, rough, huge hands grabbed both her upper arms. Tara struggled violently, even as her mother looked on with a sad expression on her lovely face. They began dragging her backwards into the room.

"Mom?" Tara watched Diana following them.

She continued to speak, "Tara listen to me, we're running out of time. This whole ship…it's a machine, designed to draw everyone into the dreamscape and to do that they need a sensitive, they have tried and failed with a few people already…you have to be the next sensitive they use!"

"Then I'll just draw everyone in!" Tara cried in exasperation, still struggling against her captors although less so.

They had now dragged her fully into the room. Hands still held her while another Juthungi moved in front of her. His face leered in what Tara assumed to be a grin. Her insides crawled in the face of it. He withdrew a wicked looking blade from a sheath at his side and for a few terrified moments, even though she was dreaming, Tara thought he would plunge it into her body. Hands on either side of her tugged off her heavy flight jacket while the one with the knife slipped it under her jersey. Tara was forced to stand still as they stripped her down to her undergarments, removing her heavy boots as well. She stood freezing in just a woollen singlet and tights, her bare feet threatening to freeze to the floor.

"Mom?" Tara craned her neck over her captors to find her mother standing by the door, tears rolling down her face.

Juthungi hands thrust her backwards, Tara yelped as she fell through the air. She landed hard in some sort of chair and they immediately began attending to a complex series of straps which served to fasten her securely into the chair. Tara felt the cold metal mould to every curve of her body until it fit as though it were made specifically for her.

"Tara, listen to me...I can change it! I can make it so the Juthungi are trapped within their own dreamscape, their real bodies will be dead to our world. Humanity will be safe - never again to be drawn into that deadly world. By standing at the conduit between the real world and the dreamscape I can influence it because I am part of it. However, I need your strength Tara, there's no way I am strong enough to do this alone. You and I share a connection that would make this impossible between any other two people," Diana Maclay surged forward between the Juthungi so that she stood right beside Tara, her lips almost touching Tara's ear. "Together, we can do this!"

Tara was terrified by the intensity of her mother's words as well as what she suggested. For the first time doubt crept into her mind as to whether she could trust this vision of her mother. The military training in her questioned everything, including whether or not all of this was a lie designed to draw her back to the ship.

"Mom...I mean...how can I trust that what you say will happen? I don't want to doubt..." Tara began, she drew a breath and asked the question she needed to. "Are you really my mother?"

"Tara, time's almost up...I don't know what to say to convince you." Diana's tone was urgent, her visage tortured with grief. "I knew you liked girls from the moment you gave Susan McNeil those flowers when you were just five...and you kissed her on the cheek at her birthday party. Seeing you and Willow together in your dreams, I know you've found the one woman who will love you for the rest of her life. Willow. You need to draw on that intense passion you feel for her in order to save her life...and the lives of millions of people...Tara..."

It was a dilemma that no one person should have had to bear. The fate of the world. At that moment Tara Maclay wished fervently that it were someone else, someone far stronger than herself. The metal pressed against her body, she was numb with cold, terrified. All she wanted was to be with Willow.

_Willow..._

They had come together despite the military, despite the Juthungi, despite the war bringing chaos to the world around them. For the brief months she had known Willow, Tara had been blissfully happy despite everything. She had always known that she would do anything to save Willow's life...and if she could save the rest of the world as well, then why the hell not!

Tara realised she had all the strength she needed. She turned back to her mother, her face grim with determination. As she looked into Diana Maclay's eyes her doubt faded.

"Yes," she whispered.

At that moment a massive shockwave surged through her body causing her to spasm uncontrollably. Tara screamed...the pain was unbearable as she writhed against the straps which held her down. She arched her back upwards, instinctively straining to get away from the contraption which held her in thrall.

The pain abated for a blessed moment and through her glazed eyes Tara could just make out her mother. Tears continued to roll unchecked down Diana's face. As she lay gasping for each breath, Tara began to realise exactly what would happen if she chose to follow her mother's advice for real. She cried as well.

* * *

Tara's eyes snapped open and she lay absolutely frozen for a few moments before she realised where she was. She calmed instantly when she saw Cherry's little face regarding her with a mixture of concern and fear. With a muffled groan, Tara sat up and rubbed her aching temples.

"Who's Willow?" Cherry asked quietly, staring at Tara with wide eyes.

"What?" Tara asked groggily, trying to recollect her shattered thoughts.

"Just before you woke up, you called out for someone named Willow."

Tara had no idea what she had said in her sleep for the young boy to hear. She hoped fervently that it had been safe for his young ears.

"Willow is…Willow is my girlfriend - my everything really," Tara replied quietly, as she talked she began rummaging around in her pack for some food for the three of them, she fervently hoped they managed to meet up with the army soon. She didn't have much food or water with her.

"Ah," Cherry nodded sagely, "I had a girlfriend once, Jemima Carrington-Jones, but I made fun of her hat one day and she never spoke to me again. I should very much like to find her again. What's Willow like? I hope she doesn't wear silly hats."

Tara passed Cherry a pack of survival mix which was made up of nuts and chocolate. "Hmmm, she has bright green eyes, even brighter than Mrs Chippy's, perfect red hair and the cutest little nose. She's the most beautiful girl on the planet. Hurry up with those, we're moving out in five minutes."

Tara tucked into her own packet, the dry food rattling around in her dry mouth. She took a small swig of water from her canteen. The food sat even worse in her stomach where it congealed and set into a hard lump like concrete. Barely finishing half the packet, she handed the rest to Cherry and set about readying them to hit the road once more.

* * *

Despite the fact that her newly repaired Guardian handled sluggishly, Willow felt a surge of confidence running through her veins. She looked out to her left and right to see both Devil and Slayer squadrons fanned out in formation as they approached the mothership. It lay on the landscape like a giant pimple, each one of the pilots longing to squeeze and squash it completely like the disease it was.

As they approached, Willow watched swarms of LGF fighters emerge from the sides of the ship. The flying wings also fanned out in their own deadly formation. They rose quickly to meet the oncoming threat to their ship.

"Here they come, hold on to your knickers everyone!" Willow yelled over the com just as she slammed the thrust lever forward to dive into the middle of the approaching LGFs, there was no way in hell she was holding anything back today.

The Guardian's engines gave a worrying cough of protest before they complied with their master's commands. As Willow dived she opened fire at the first craft in her sights and watched it explode in a giant fireball which took another LGF craft with it. Willow flew through the debris of the destroyed ships and tore through the centre of the LGF formation. Her manoeuvre sent them scattering in all directions, right into the paths of the rest of the Devils and the Slayers.

In her bold move, Willow had torn straight through the defensive formation of ships and found herself on collision course for the mothership. She pulled up just before she slammed into its side and went skimming up over its surface at maximum speed. The vents were at the apex of the pimple-shaped ship...Willow could see them clearly.

"Why hello there," Willow whispered, her face curling into an evil grin as she released two of her four rockets towards the target.

Both rockets slammed into the vent with a huge fireball as a resulted. Willow yanked her stick to one side and pulled a tight turn around to check on the damage she had done. As the smoke cleared she saw the heavy armour plating had been partially torn away from the opening...but the vent was still not clear. More firepower was needed.

"This is Devil One to all planes. This nut is gonna be tough to crack...use your rockets and be as accurate as possible. Cover each other's attack runs. It's like flying through a swarm of insects out here!" Willow said clearly and firmly. She pounced an unsuspecting LGF and let rip with a burst of cannon fire into its wing.

Willow accelerated back up into the sky, away from the ship where manoeuvrability was constricted. She glanced over her shoulder to see the sky a mass with craft, both going down in flames and tearing through the sky. The Guardians were clearly the superior aircraft. Willow fervently hoped that there were enough of them to win the day.

* * *

"The assault," Tara whispered, gazing skyward as she saw bright flashes of light erupt around where the alien mothership lay.

"What?" Cherry was keeping a firm hold on Mrs Chippy who was cowering inside his jacket with all the commotion.

Tara dragged Cherry unceremoniously by the scruff of his neck, even as the small boy craned his neck to be able to see the approaching convoy. He scrambled to stay on his feet and followed her down into the building's ruined basement. Tara continued to retain her hold on him until they had reached the darkest spot in the dank space. She crouched down behind a furnace which had long since ceased to burn and pulled Cherry down with her.

"You didn't need to drag me so roughly. I wanted to see who it was!" he protested loudly.

Tara didn't respond as the rumbling in the street drew closer to the building in which they were hiding. She just clamped a strong hand over his mouth. Cherry got the picture and promptly stopped trying to argue. Tara lowered her hand and gently shifted him behind her so that her body shielded him. She half expected him to go charging off and confront whoever it was himself with the foolhardy bravery of a child. With shaking hands she held the machine pistol out in front of her. She had never fired the weapon in anger. It was one thing to let loose with a battery of 20mm cannons by pressing a button in the cockpit - it was another altogether to pull the trigger of a weapon in her own hands.

Cherry in turn held Mrs Chippy tightly in his coat with one hand. If the kitten ran off, he knew there was no way he could follow her. Mrs Chippy however, seemed quite content to sit in the warmth and luxuriate in the fact that they had ceased running. She was unconcerned by her master's heart thumping in his chest and was in fact…purring. In the other hand Cherry felt for, and found a small chunk of masonry. His fingers curled over it, he gripped it tightly in preparation to throw it with all the strength he could muster.

The barely audible thrum emanating from the kitten and the panicked breathing coming from Tara and Cherry were all that could be heard coming from the dark space. Outside however, was another story. The rumbling grew louder as it came closer, eventually the building began to shake. It showered them both in fine clouds of dust and stung their eyes.

Suddenly, Tara heard the distinct sound of heavy boots on the wooden stairs leading down to the basement. The thudded down in rapid succession, first one pair…then another and another…Even as she tightened her grip on her weapon, Tara knew there was no way that she could hope to fight them off.

A single beam shot through the darkness, illuminating the clouds of dust around them. Before Tara realised that it was simply the light of a torch, it fell directly into her eyes and blinded her. Tara threw her hand up to shield her eyes even as she heard the most welcome sound she could possibly imagine.

"It's a woman and a kid!" A strong Southern accent cut through the fog in her brain as he yelled to his comrades.

Tara blinked, trying to focus as the torchlight no longer shinned directly into her eyes. All she saw were bright spots for a few moments before she could make out the dirty face of the man in front of her. His earnest brown eyes stared at her from beneath his large helmet, she realised that his hand was extended towards her.

Tentatively, Tara reached out. As soon as she came into contact with his grimy paw, he secured a vice-like grip on her hand and yanked her up in one strong movement. Another soldier had already moved to help Cherry up and the boy beamed at his rescuer. The sudden movement startled Mrs Chippy and her small head peaked out of Cherry's coat to see what was going on.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" the soldier asked in a loud voice before he saw her flight jacket. "I'm sorry, sir!"

Tara just nodded, she extended her hand to Cherry who responded with the barely imperceptible but vigorous shaking of his head. Although he liked Tara a lot, Cherry didn't want to be seen holding her hand in front of the battle-toughed soldiers. Even so, he remained close as he followed her stoically from the building.

Once outside she realised what all the rumbling had been. Stopped outside the building, it's engine still humming, was a massive tank. The tank commander gave them both a wave from the turret. Tara looked down the street to see another two tanks behind the first, a number of soldiers either standing beside them or clinging to the sides.

An officer strode up to greet her with an extended hand. "Lieutenant Oates, third armoured battalion. You one of those pilots from the fleet?"

"Yes, I'm Flying Officer Maclay, I was shot down a few days ago and I've spent the past day trying to meet up with you guys."

"We were heading for the front but have just been recalled to reinforce the rear. You guys sure are lucky we bumped into you, Maclay," Oates nodded, agreeing with himself. "I'm guessing you'll want to hitch a ride?"

"If it's no trouble-" Tara began.

"Trouble? Most certainly not!" he turned to men sitting on the sides of the nearest tank and barked out swift orders. "Hey, you louts! Help the officer and the kid up!"

"We're riding on a tank!" Cherry said breathlessly, he scrambled up the huge tracks on his own, even so, arms reached down to pull him up.

Tara found more than enough soldiers reaching down to help her up. She was hoisted onto the rumbling, metal beast and settled into a spot next to Cherry. Someone had already slapped an overlarge helmet on the boy's head and he grinned at her from beneath it. Tara reached out and lashed the chinstrap up firmly for him, keeping it tight on his head.

Even as the tiny convoy began moving again with its two extra passengers, Tara's gut began to ache. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the mother ship, as far away as it was. Her mother's words rang over and over in her head. She knew what she had to do but was terribly afraid to do it. Not for her own sake…but for Willow's. Their tank pulled away last, there was nothing between her and the ship…except Willow.

Cherry was perched comfortably on the side of the tank, well, as comfortable as it was possible to be on the side of a lumbering metal giant. Mrs Chippy had taken this new development in her stride and was riding in his coat with her eyes on the road ahead. A firm hand slapped him on the shoulder and he looked up to see the tank commander smiling down at him.

"Hey kid, want a Hershey's bar?"

Cherry could only nod enthusiastically and the soldier passed him down a rumpled but intact bar of chocolate. As he was peeling back the wrapper and tucking into his first bite, he looked across to Tara. She was staring behind them, at the perilous way they had just come. Her beautiful face had a pained expression as though she were longing for something. He thought perhaps she was missing Willow. He broke off a piece of his chocolate and tapped her on the shoulder, offering it to her. Tara smiled and shook her head.

"I'm not really hungry," she replied, she turned around again and went back to facing their past.

He watched her face set in a fierce expression of determination. Cherry knew it well, it was what had seen them both through the past few days. She discreetly tugged her backpack back onto her back and checked her weapon.

Oliver Cherry-Smith may have been just ten years old, but as he watched Tara he knew she was planning to do something quite rash.

"Tara?" he asked uncertainly.

Tara spun around fully to talk to the boy. She hunkered down slightly to meet him at eye level.

"Cherry, these men will take good care of you and Mrs Chippy alright?" Her voice was firm, it would brook no argument.

Cherry nodded, the chocolate became tasteless in his mouth as he realised she was leaving him. He carefully folded the remainder of the chocolate back into its wrapper and handed it to her. Tara took it with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Without a further word she lightly jumped off the back of the moving tank. Within seconds she had disappeared into the rumble that littered the street. All Cherry could do was stare wistfully and eat the piece of chocolate he had broken off to give to Tara.

"Oi! Where'd the woman go?" One of the soldiers had just noticed Tara was missing and grabbed Cherry by the shoulder.

Cherry turned back to face him with an impassive expression on his little face. "She has something she needs to do."

* * *

Willow jammed her thumb down and watched as one rocket tore away from the Guardian and went soaring towards the vent atop the ship. Although she watched with satisfaction as the missile slammed into the port side vent and something erupted in a ball of flame, there was no second rocket that followed. She jammed the button again before peering out of her cockpit and down to see the second rocket hung up on its bracket beneath her wing. It dangled uselessly, neither secure nor about to fall off.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Willow slammed her fist against the side of the cockpit and broke of her attack run in the face of a furious barrage of cross fire from all sides.

As she pulled up and out of the most severe fire, she called out over her com to Charlie and Barrel, "Devils three and five, all set for your runs…I'll draw fire."

"Will!" Alex yelled from where he was circling, engaged at keeping enemy aircraft at bay. "Get the hell out of there, what can you possibly do?"

"I make a nice sitting duck," Willow muttered, as she sped towards the target from the opposite side of the ship as Charlie who was making his live run, she was merely acting as a dummy.

Willow noted with satisfaction that the majority of the fire was directed at her as she ducked and weaved with all the urgency that she could muster. She passed directly over the target without having fired just as Charlie's rockets slammed home. Willow passed unscathed through the resulting fireball and back up over the other side.

"Nice shooting Devil three. They've definitely got something to think about now," she watched as fires burned beneath her, licking over the surface of the alien ship, "All set Devil-"

As Willow was pulling back around for yet another dummy run, struggling to avoid fire coming from the ship, she was pounced by an LGF that had snuck through the protective screen provided by Slayer squadron. The Guardian shook as fire tore along its underside, raking it from nose to tail. Willow fought to level her plane out, her instrument panel lighting up like a Christmas tree with warning lights.

Even as she struggled with the controls Willow was fiercely angry. _How come I'm the one who's always getting her plane shot full of holes…I'm supposed to be good dammit!_

There was an explosion behind her and Buffy's voice came over the com, "The bastard's off your tail Will, you've done enough, land that crate before it lands you!"

"Thanks Buff," Willow kicked the place into a right turn…or rather tried to turn, the Guardian refused to cooperate and managed only a weak bank to the right.

She was moving away from the scene, but at a snail's pace and with barely any control whatsoever. If she ran into any LGF action she would be toast for sure. Luckily for her, they were all hanging around the ship trying to stem the main attack which, thanks to Willow's leadership, was wrecking havoc.

A few minutes later, as she was still struggling towards friendly lines, Buffy's voice called over the com again. "We're spent, fuels low and ammunition is almost gone…we'll be right behind you."

"Outcome?" Willow asked through clenched teeth.

"Inconclusive," Buffy replied. "The outside of it is all shot to hell but I don't know what internal damage we've done or how many of them we've killed…let's just hope the army has made some progress."

Willow landed a few minutes later, it felt weird to be landing on solid ground instead of a carrier. While the Guardian was seriously damaged she managed to get it grounded without further incident. After all, she was extremely good at landing damaged planes.

Willow leapt down to the ground from her cockpit, feeling a slight jar as she did so but nothing serious. She flexed all her limbs to make sure they were still there. As she was doing so a pair of soldiers ran up,

"Sure is a nice plane sir," one said, casting appreciative glances at the new-fangled aircraft.

"It used to be a nice plane." Willow turned and surveyed the rather serious damage that had been done to her freshly repaired plane. "Is there someone around her who can start fixing her up?"

"The tech boffins are just being brought up from the rear now. It shouldn't be long before you're back in the air," the soldier replied confidently.

As Willow looked wearily at her plane she was suddenly aware of just how tired she was. Having no sleep in almost two days was fast catching up with her now she was back on the ground. Her limbs, which only a few moments ago had still been energized from flying, began to turn into jelly.

"Are you alright sir, are you hit?" the soldier asked, his hand shooting out to grab Willow as she sagged.

Willow shook her head. "I'm fine…just exhausted that's all. I really need to grab a few hours sleep."

The solider helped her to a cluster of tents which were serving as a field hospital. Willow gratefully slumped down into the nearest available cot and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

* * *

Willow awoke to something licking her face and for a few glorious moments she thought that it might be Tara. However, as she regained consciousness more fully, she realised that the tongue was much too small and too rough to belong to Tara…and she was also quite sure that Tara did not purr. Gradually her eyes opened and came to focus on a tiny, furry little face. She lifted her head from the pillow and lent back slightly to regard a skinny, little orange kitten that looked at her as though he expected thanks for waking her up.

"You're Willow aren't you?" a bright voice piped up from the bed next to Willow as she was still trying to gather herself together.

Willow lifted her head to see a small boy seated on the bed behind her. His wayward mop of hair half flopped over half of his dirty little face. He held a huge, steaming tin mug of hot chocolate with his much too long sleeves brought up to protect his skin from the heat. She regarded the rather queer sight for a moment before replying.

"My name's Willow yes, how did you know?" Willow sat up a little further, propping herself up with her arms.

The cat meowed indignantly at being forced to shift as Willow moved. She absently reached out and stroked it as it settled into a new spot.

"Tara told me about you," he replied simply.

Upon hearing that name Willow sat up in a hurry. She caused herself a massive head-rush which sent her head spinning and sent the cat leaping to the floor. She grasped her head firmly between both hands for a few moments to quell the sensation. Once the room had stopped spinning, she threw back the covers which someone had kindly placed over her.

"When did you meet Tara?" Willow asked urgently, managing to sit up fully and swing her legs over the side of the bed.

The cat stole the opportunity to return Willow's lap and she absently resumed stroking it.

"A few days ago, she found Mrs Chippy and I hiding and helped me out until we met up with some soldiers."

"Tara was with you when you met up with the soldier?" Willow repeated with a furrowed brow and the first glimmerings of hope. "Do you know where she is now?"

"Yes!" he replied enthusiastically, as though he were quite pleased that he could help but at the same time unintentionally exasperating Willow with the brevity of his replies.

"Where? Where is she…please?" Willow tried to keep her voice from sounding too desperate but failed miserably.

"The big ship." This time he replied with much less enthusiasm, he ducked his head as though it were his fault that he had lost her. "She made sure I was safe and turned right back around again, saying it was something she had to do….but I don't know what it was she had to do. All I know is that she was going in the direction of the big ship. I'm sorry."

Willow's heart sank and she lent her head in her hands, accidentally jabbing Mrs Chippy's foot with her elbow. The cat meowed indignantly and leapt off her lap, having decided that he'd had enough of sitting on the volatile stranger's lap. He returned to Cherry, rubbing himself against his master's legs.

"It's not your fault…" Willow realised she didn't know the boy's name even as her mood plummeted to the very depths. "What is your name?'

"Oliver Cherry-Smith." He reached out a hand and Willow grasped it as firmly as she could manage under the circumstances. "But everyone calls me Cherry…and Mrs Chippy of course."

"Cherry…thank you very much." Willow flopped back onto the cot, the springs protesting under her slight weight.

She lay there, feeling an unbearable emptiness and disbelief. Tara had been rescued and within mere miles of returning to her love but she had chosen to run in the opposite direction.

Cherry felt some of Willow's pain. He missed Tara even though he had only known her for a relatively brief time. He knew just how wonderful Tara was…Willow must be feeling what he was feeling a hundred-fold.

"Willow?" He saw her blinking back tears.

She propped herself up on her elbows again, and felt reassured by the sympathy evident on Cherry's face. It was clear Tara had an effect on him. "Yes, Cherry?" she whispered.

"Are you going to follow her?" he asked simply.

Willow's eyes widened as she realised what Cherry was effectively saying. Why was she sitting around feeling sorry for herself when she could be going after Tara? Willow knew there was little time to waste. She glanced at her watch and saw she had slept for the better part of the afternoon; night would fall soon. For some reason, she couldn't quite explain, she knew Cherry was very right when he said Tara was heading for the 'big ship.' Images of her dream flooded unbidden into her mind and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, both to hold onto them and block them out.

"Willow?" Cherry asked again.

"Yes…I am," Willow replied firmly, finally managing to stand up.

Captain Red, fighter Ace extra-ordinaire, was about to become a foot soldier.

* * *

Tara slipped and tumbled down a pile of rubble. As she crashed down her world spun around her, she momentarily lost conscious as her head slammed against a concrete slab. When her eyes re-focused she had to stifle a terrified scream. She was face-to-face with an LGF on the ground beside her. Petrifying seconds passed before she realised that it was lying down in death, its sightless eyes staring at absolutely nothing. Once over her initial terror, Tara regarded it quizzically. In death, although the creature visage was hideous, it was nothing to fear. Instinctively, she reached out and placed her hand on its head, right between its two purple eyes. If she had been expecting to feel something she was disappointed. All she felt was a vague feeling of uneasiness that could have been coming from her own emotions.

Once done communing with the dead alien, Tara regained her feet and resumed her trek towards the mother ship. The closer she came, the more damage was revealed until she was its exterior was a mass of pitted, gaping holes.

At its base, it was connected to the very earth by a series of large tubes. They threaded their way downward in no particular succession, each descended underground. They pulsed like veins full of blood as though they pumped something into the earth. Tara could not get any idea of what it was through the opaque surface of the pipes.

She froze when she saw a small cluster of aliens barely fifty feet away from her. They stood quite impassively, almost as though they were waiting for something. Although she had seen them many times in the dreamscape, it was altogether different to see them real and alive. Fear and doubt resurfaced. What if they were to kill her on the spot? What if her mother had been wrong? Steeling herself for what was to come, Tara gathered a series of deep breaths. She composed herself through her breathing just as her mother had taught her so many years ago.

She was ready.

"I'm so sorry, Willow," Tara murmured as she emerged out into the open.

It did not take long for the LGFs to notice her.


	20. into the Belly of the Beast

**Chapter Twenty  
Into the Belly of the Beast**

"Have you seen Willow since you landed?"

Buffy looked up from the first meal she had eaten in the better part of twelve hours. Even as her gaze found Faith, her stomach rumbled in angry protest when she put down her fork. The brunette was still wearing her flight suit which was disgustingly coated in a mixture of oil and blood. She strode over and took a seat on the bench next to her, a groan of exhaustion escaping her lips as she did so. With a filthy hand she reached out and claimed Buffy's last piece of bread. In two quick bites, the bread was gone. Graciously, Buffy pushed the remnants of the rather awful stew that she had been devouring with relish in Faith's direction. With barely a murmured thanks, Faith descended on the meal with absolutely no regard for civilised manners.

"What about Willow?" Buffy asked as she tried not to watch Faith eat. The mere sight of her shovelling gobs of stew into her mouth was quite enough to put her off food for the time being.

"Haf oo een er?" Faith repeated with her mouth crammed full.

"If you asked 'Have you seen her', then yes, she was sleeping in the hospital when I landed. I suppose she's still there. She was pretty much wiped out." Buffy had tried to rouse Willow with no success.

Faith looked at Buffy sceptically even as she continued to stuff food in her mouth with barely a pause to chew. "Ah ya sure she still ere?"

"Why wouldn't she be?" Buffy had no idea where this conversation was leading, if anything, it was serving to irritate her.

Faith had scooped up the last of the stew, with a hearty swallow she cleared her mouth. "Buffy, Willow's girlfriend is out there somewhere. If there is the slimmest of possibilities that she could be found…do you really think Willow is just going to sit here and wait for someone else to rescue her?"

The lights of realisation flicked on in Buffy's mind. "This is Willow we're talking about here isn't it? Then no, she'd take the first chance she got…and there is no way in hell her crate is going to be flying today, or this week!"

"She'd try though," Faith growled.

Both Buffy and Faith sprang to their feet and made their way to the hospital tent. As they were heading for the large tent with its distinctive red cross, they were forced to fight their way through a myriad of troops and vehicles heading towards the front lines. While the pilots and their aircraft could not hope to harass the enemy constantly, the ground assault could. The distant rumble of gunfire created morbid background music for the human camp. It did not cease and would not until all of one side, human or alien, were wiped out.

Willow was not to be found on the cot where Buffy had seen her last. There was a heavily wounded soldier, swathed in bandages, in her place. The little boy whom Buffy had seen in the bed next to Willow was nowhere to be seen either.

"Orderly! Have you seen Captain Rosenberg?" Buffy inquired of a flustered young man passing by with an armful of blankets.

"She asked the direction to the supply tent. That was about half an hour ago," he said briskly, without a further word he continued about his urgent business.

Buffy and Faith entered the aforementioned tent a few minutes later and discovered their quarry was indeed there. Willow gave them the briefest of glances when they entered and barely a hint of acknowledgement. Her face was grim and determined as only Willow could be.

"We saw your crate sitting on the runway. I hope you're not planning to go back up in it. Willow…what are you doing?" Buffy asked suspiciously.

Willow was knelling on the ground, stuffing items into a standard army issue rucksack. A loaded Tommy gun sat at her side and a heavy pistol hung from a holster at her hip.

"More to the point," Faith butted in, eyes narrowed at the sight of the backpack. "Where the hell are you going?"

Willow gave them the briefest of glances before she mumbled something under her breath that both Slayers took as an indication she did not want to answer either of their questions. Faith was not one to stand a ceremony. She reached down and grabbed Willow by the scruff of her jacket. With one swift jerk she yanked the redhead to her feet.

"We're not leaving until you tell us what you're doing," Faith demanded, keeping Willow held secure at eye level.

"I'm going to find Tara," was Willow's unsurprising answer.

Faith grunted and let Willow go with no ceremony. "That was simple wasn't it? Now you're not going anywhere, at least until you wait for us to find some kit. We're coming with you."

"Speak for yourself!" Buffy looked slightly disgruntled but she agreed with a nod.

Willow glared at the two women in turn. She was annoyed that they would attempt to intrude on her grief by making it their own as well. Although Willow was fully aware of the saying, 'there is strength in numbers,' she was determined that the only life she risked would be her own. It had to be. They simply could not spare the manpower to go charging off searching for a single pilot who had probably been dead for days.

She studied Buffy and Faith's faces and found exactly what she had expected - stubborn, pig-headed determination and a blatant disregard for any opinion save their own. If she denied them her approval they would simply follow her anyway. They were all probably going to die - squabbling would get them all killed much, much sooner.

"Get yourselves kitted up then," Willow said gruffly, deep down she was grateful to have anyone coming along with her but she wasn't about to admit that.

The private manning the desk in the supply tent was quick to respond to their requests. He loaded them up with light packs the same as the one Willow carried, as well as emergency gear and rations. Once their packs were sorted, he plonked two Tommy guns down on the desk, along with extra ammunition. Buffy picked hers up and swiftly slammed a fresh magazine in whereas Faith just stared at it disappointedly. She looked up at the private.

"Have you got anything a little bigger?" she asked hopefully.

"Well, I can't assign you anything bigger than a Bren gun…but with all due respect sir, I think you'd be much better off with the Tommy. She packs a pretty good punch and the Bren…is a little hard to handle for a…um, for a…" He withered beneath Faith's resulting angry glare. "Um, I'll just go get you one, sir."

He returned with the light machine gun and handed it gingerly to Faith. It far outweighed the Thompson submachine gun. The Slayer accepted it with a broad smile on her face and slung it over her shoulder possessively. "Much better thank you, Private."

The flaps of the supply tent parted to reveal a rather disgruntled group of pilots with one sailor in tow. The three women found Tad Dempster, Alex, William, Charlie and Barrel standing with arms crossed and resolute expressions.

"Are you going somewhere without us, Captain?" William asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Tommy guns all around!" Buffy signalled to the flustered private before turning to Willow who was tight-lipped with her appreciation. "The more help the better I figure."

The eight-strong squad moved out under the fast fading light that evening. Their weapons clinked softly as their boots padded out of the human encampment. They made their way out into the devastation that had once been a great city.

Willow stared up into the early winter sky to find that the stars still twinkled despite all that was going on beneath them. With each foot forward she took a step closer to finding out whether Tara was dead or alive…if she managed to find her at all. She was grateful to her friends around her for their support, even if she was leading them all to their deaths.

"Will!" Alex hissed in her ear, trying to keep as quiet as possible. "Have you got a plan?"

"No," Willow whispered in reply. "I haven't got a clue either…just a whole lot of hope."

"Well…" Alex replied grudgingly. "I suppose that's better than nothing. Although a plan would be really good!"

* * *

Tara floated on the edges of consciousness. She was aware enough to know that she was sealed up in a bare metal cell and that she was freezing. They had left her lying in only her undergarments, just a thin layer of wool separating her skin from the ice cold metal.

As time passed in her delirious state, images and memories had begun to flash before her eyes to the point where she could no longer separate hallucinations from reality. Each memory came unbidden, but in chronological order like a filmstrip of her life. It was as though someone or something was trawling through her memories at will.

Most of her life passed before her in the blink of an eye, something which Tara thought was appropriate as she was going to die. However certain memories were lingered over, Tara experienced each with all the richness of reality. She had no idea why they were chosen and she was powerless to do anything except relive each one.

"_Two cups of flour and one cup of sugar."_

_As eight year old Tara listened carefully to the instructions, she looked up to see her mother standing over her. Diana Maclay held no recipe book and she had never needed one. On short legs, she reached up and scooped the ceramic cup into the flour bin and carefully brought out a heaped cup. Despite the care she took in pouring it into the mixing bowl it still managed to spray a fine layer of powder over the counter top and her face. Tara sneezed loudly, sending little puffs of powder into the air around her. Dianna laughed and patted Tara's cheek, leaving behind a small patch of clear, pale skin._

Even as she lay shivering violently, a small smile crossed Tara's face as she brought her hand up to touch her cheek. For a few blissful moments, she felt the heat of her mother's kitchen and smelled the aroma that wafted from the oven.

_Another cup of flour was added with even more care this time. The cup of sugar flowed in easily, the little crystals standing out from the flour lying around them. _

"_Two eggs…watch me do the first one - you give it a good tap on the side of the bowl." _

_Tara loved listening to her mother's voice, no matter what she was talking about. She watched as her mother gave the egg a solid but controlled tap on the side of the ceramic mixing bowl. It cracked neatly and from then she deftly separated the two halves and let the contents fall into the bowl. It looked so simple. Diana handed Tara the next egg and she cradled it carefully in her hand just like her mother had done. She then whacked it against the side of the bowl, completely misjudging the amount of force that was necessary to crack the shell. Egg and shell went flying in all directions, several dollops of yolk landing on Tara's face but mostly it collapsed into a runny mess in her hand. Tara looked up at her mother with a pathetically apologetic look on her face, expecting a frown of disapproval. Instead, Diana chuckled and fetched a towel from nearby. _

"_That was…not bad for a first go," she said diplomatically as she cleaned the mess from Tara's hand. _

_However Tara was a precocious child and she wrinkled her small nose in disagreement. "I'm a bad cook, Mommy."_

_Diana chuckled, "You can say that when you're thirty years old, not eight."_

"_I will then," Tara replied simply._

If she had been anywhere else, Tara would have laughed at the memory. In hindsight, her eight year old self had been exactly right and she was still a terrible cook. No wonder she was in the military, she wasn't at all fussy about her food.

"It's s-so c-cold," Tara whispered to herself, mostly to discover whether she could still speak. Her voice sounded oddly detached, as though she were not the one speaking the words. As she could not feel her lips, this seemed entirely possible. "W-Willow…I need you." The words were meaningless. Tara knew she was never going to see Willow again.

Tara struggled to bring an image of Willow into her mind and retain it there despite the intrusions inside her mind. She mentally ran her thumb over Willow's ruby red lips before moving it to caress her silky smooth cheek. Tara grunted in frustration as something tried to rip that image from her mind. All she could do was scream out in protest as she was forced back into her memories.

_The bare grey walls were not unlike the cell in which her real body was lying. However, they were terribly familiar rather than alien. The room was not empty but rather there was a simple cot against one wall and a plain chest of drawers with a precisely placed mirror hanging above it. There were no openings save for one heavy door, which Tara already knew, was locked. It was a room that Tara knew all too well. _

_Tara Maclay was a prisoner. She was just eleven years old. _

_The door clicked once and swung open with a creaking of its massive hinges. Tara half expected men with wicked looking guns but what she got was a tall, bespectacled man in a white coat. Despite her terror, he did not appear threatening in the least. Rather he smiled warmly. _

"_How are you Tara?" His accent was unmistakably British, his tone unmistakably sincere. _

_Tara looked at him as though he was trying to tell a bad joke. How was it possible to be fine in a place like this? She stated the obvious in reply, "I'm locked up - why am I locked up?"_

"_Tara, it's for you own protection at first. After a while the door will be unlocked and you will be free to walk around the school, and outside in the grounds with supervision." He could see that his words were having little compensatory effect. "I truly am sorry Tara, this room really is dreadful. I hope to be able to arrange something better for you soon. Just hang in there okay?"_

_Tara sighed and sat heavily on the small bed behind her. The springs creaked in protest, hinting at just how uncomfortable the bed would be to sleep on. Everything was closing in on her at this point. Her entire life had become a nightmare from which she desperately wanted to wake. Her beautiful mother had gone to Egypt and would never return, keeping part of Tara's heart with her. The rest of her heart had been ripped from her chest when her father and brother were murdered in their beds. It made Tara violently ill to think that she had been responsible for their deaths. Now, sitting in that awful room, she was sure that thing beating in her chest was no longer her heart. She might as well be dead. _

"_Tara, you are safe here. You must know that." The white-coated man tried to console her. _

"_Where are my things?" Tara desperately needed something from her former life, if only to run her fingers over it and reassure herself that she had once lived that life, had once been an incredibly happy and blessed little girl. _

_Giles' face fell as though it was a difficult question. "I'll see what I can do to get them to you. In the meantime, would you like some lunch?"_

_Tara shook her head deliberately. "I'm not hungry. I just want a photo of my family."_

"_I'll get it for you," Giles promised sincerely, "My name is Mr Giles, Tara. You can call me Giles."_

_Giles went to leave, it was not until the door was almost closed that Tara said anything, _

"_Bye, Giles," she whispered in a small voice._

Tara knew that Giles had been the one person who had been truly good to her in that awful place. He was her only friend until she met Buffy and Faith many years later.

"_Tara, for goddsake cut back on the throttle!"_

_Even though he was screaming into the earpiece, Tara's instructor sounded as though he were miles away. She barely registered his terrified voice sounding over the crackly connection between the two cockpits. Tara couldn't care in the least. She threw the biplane around the sky as though it were one of the best planes money could buy. The little craft flicked over into a roll and back up into a steep climb that made her whoop for sheer joy. All of this was done with the throttle slammed forward as far as it would go. The daring young pilot was squeezing every ounce of power out of the pathetic excuse for an engine. The machine coughed and spluttered violently in protest at the way it was being treated. Normally the biplane flew along at a steady, sedate pace under the shaky control of a trainee pilot. This routine only varied when the terrified pupil was instructed to bank into a turn._

_Tara, however, was no terrified pupil. Despite having just five hours flying time to her name, she handled the plane as though she had been born in the cockpit. This flight had started like every other, Tara following the careful directions of the instructor sitting behind her as she guided the plane through its paces. Bored of the simple manoeuvres, Tara ignored all further instructions and flew on instinct. The result had the instructor in a blind panic and Tara having the time of her life. _

_As she was hanging upside down in a barrel roll Tara knew that this was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. For those precious moments in the air she could forget about whom she was and her traumatic past. In the air the only thing that mattered was the bond between her and the aircraft she was flying. _

_As the plane levelled out, the stick was violently wrenched out of her hand. _

"_I'm taking over!" the instructor bleated in a nervous voice. _

"_Fucking pussy," Tara muttered just loud enough for him to hear. The foul language learned from her newfound friends at Air Academy._

Inside her frozen exterior Tara was oddly smug. She remembered that she had been taken off the rickety old biplanes the very next day, promoted to training on Air Commands newest monoplane fighter aircraft.

"_Willow."_

_Tara said the name again, this time however it felt as though it was for real. Willow was really standing in front of her in their cramped little cabin on the Odysseus. Every detail stood out on her face, right down to the adorable little cleft in her chin. Somewhere deep down inside of her Tara knew that she was still dreaming…but she didn't care. Especially as moments later Willow began peeling both hers and Tara's layers of clothing off as fast as humanly possible._

"_Oh god," Willow breathed between mouthfuls of Tara. "I need you so much. I've been in fucking training all day long."_

_Tara arched one eyebrow naughtily as Willow crouched down to unbutton her pants. "Fucking training, Will? Do you need some extra lessons?"_

_Willow glanced up at Tara in confusion partway through wrestling her pants to the ground. "No…no extra lessons, I've never needed extra lessons in my life…well, unless you count the tuition I had in eighth grade to catch up after being off school with pneumonia for a month but extra lessons implies that I find it difficult, which I don't…" Comprehension finally dawned. "Oh! I can be pretty stupid at times huh?"_

"_Just overly literal…but I'm interrupting you, please continue," Tara was standing with her pants half way down around her legs growing colder by the second without the heat of Willow's body next to hers. _

"_Yes ma'am," Willow eagerly continued her duties. _

_The offending pants were stripped clear, leaving Tara completely naked. Willow admired her body as she finished her own disrobing. Tara ruined this by leaping into their narrow bunk and hiding beneath the covers, peering out from the warmth as Willow hopped about the small room trying to remove her socks. Finally naked, Willow padded the few steps across the floor and leapt into the bunk. _

_The bed springs protested as the two bodies began writhing in their own version of keeping warm. Willow forced Tara's head deep into the pillow beneath the ferocity of her kiss. She devoured every bit of Tara's lips, exploring them over and over just in case there was a tiny spot she had missed. _

Tara's eyes flew open despite the chaos in her mind. She realised what they were doing. The Juthungi were trawling through her memories, probing to what secrets she held, if any. Tara gritted her teeth, she had everything to hide. The most vital secret she possessed had nothing to do with what have happened during the past twenty-six years of her life but rather what had happened within the last day.

* * *

Willow crouched low in the rubble surrounding the LGF ship. Carefully she peered over the makeshift parapet and studied the massive vessel illuminated in the moonlight. Its menacing, squat presence dominated the devastated skyline. As far as she could see there was no obvious way in save trying to blow a hole through into the interior. Despite the fact that the situation seemed hopeless, she knew she had to get in some way or another. Over three days had passed since Tara had left for the ship according to the little boy, Cherry. Willow had no doubt that Tara had reached her destination but where to from there, she had no idea. One of the few things she was sure of…time was running out for all of them.

"Well?" Faith whispered from where she crouched next to Willow in the darkness. "I'd say we blow a hole in the side of it with explosives." The brunette's face lit up at the prospect of fire and loud noise but Willow was shaking her head.

"You do that and we'll have every LGF inside that thing coming down on us with everything they have! We wouldn't last two seconds!" Willow hissed in reply. "No, there has to be another way!"

High above them sounded the shrill whistle of incoming projectiles. Every member of the group looked skyward to see streaks of fire heading towards the Martian ship. With deafening explosions they smashed against the side of the structure and Faith got her wish. Willow ducked just as a piece of debris flew directly at her, threatening to decapitate her.

"It's us!" Buffy yelled excitedly above the cacophony. "Yay for us!"

"They're going to kill us!" Alex yelped, cowering behind a half-destroyed wall. "Call them off!"

The fire created by the missiles lit up the night up. Willow bravely entered a crouch and watched exactly what was happening to the ship. She watched huge holes tear in its exterior structure with the impact of thousands of pounds of explosives. Huge clouds of smoke were being generated and they quickly obscured the ship, leaving no way to tell just what effect the bombardment was having.

Showers of dust and debris sprayed the companions. They were forced to cower behind any available shelter, powerless to take advantage of the havoc the assault was wrecking. Suddenly a wall behind them shattered with a direct hit, sending a cascade of flying masonry down on them. It was chaos in the darkness with no way to avoid the falling bricks except sit tight and pray. The moment the missile had hit, Faith had thrown herself over Willow. She slammed the redhead down just as the heatwave poured over them.

Jammed beneath Faith, Willow squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands tight against her ears. She heard someone cry out in the darkness, a shrill cry that was instantly cut off and her heart sank. The thought of any of her friends dying while following her was foremost in her mind.

Moments later, the debris was settling all around them. The weight pressing down on Willow was gone and she rolled over to find Faith shaking chunks of dirt from her hair.

"Thanks," Willow had never realised what a valuable friend the brunette was, she could see why Buffy kept her around.

"Don't mention it," Faith replied gruffly. "Besides, this whole thing will be in vain if you go getting yourself killed before we even find Tara."

Willow sat up, explosions still lighting up the sky, and peered around her as the dust settled. Faith immediately left her side to check on Tad Dempster. She looked away when she saw them press their lips together for a brief kiss amidst the chaos.

"Is everyone alright?" she called into the darkness and one by one they sounded in until just Barrel and Charlie were left. "Charlie, Barrel?"

Barrel finally replied in a gruff voice. "I'm here…but poor ol' Charlie isn't. He got half a house in the chest."

"God…" Willow scrambled across the rubble to where Barrel was sitting next to the body of his best friend.

Willow glanced down at her fellow Devil. His body almost completely covered by bricks and mortar. There was no doubt that he was dead. She looked up to Barrel to see him sitting with a stony look on his face. Willow then saw the big pilot's chest and gasped. Protruding from his flesh was a large stake of wood which had embedded itself there.

"Barrel, you're hurt…just sit there." Willow turned over her shoulder. "Who has the first aid kit?"

"Here!" Buffy responded quickly.

Before Willow could turn back around, there was a muffled grunt from behind her. She spun around to find Barrel sitting with the bloody stake in his hand. He'd already ripped it out of his chest himself.

"That's a mighty impressive splinter," he muttered and tossed it aside. "Gonne patches me up or what, Captain?"

Buffy moved quickly over with the first aid kit and set to work as Willow fell from her haunches onto her bottom. She stared at Charlie's blonde hair, almost black from all the dust. The realisation that she was never going to fly with him again dawned on her. He'd followed her and he'd met his end in the dirt rather than the sky like it should have been. More than anything she regretted denying him that. She gazed skywards and hope fervently that the rest of her friends would live to feel the joy of soaring through the air once more.

"Captain…" Barrel interrupted her anguish. "He respected and admired you Charlie did…don't insult his memory by turning yellow on us now. We need you to lead us."

He nodded towards the dead pilot and seconds later Willow replied with a firm nod of her own. She had led them all this far, it seemed pointless to back out now. Willow rolled over and crawled to get a better view of their destination. While the dust wasn't clearing, it did part long enough for Willow to spy a breach in the hull of the mighty ship…a breach large enough for a person to crawl through. She decided that they would make for it as soon as Buffy was done patching Barrel up.

However, adding to the sounds already filling the air came something which turned her blood to ice. She knew that sound all too well as it had been ever present in her life since she first engaged the LGFs in combat. It was the whine of their flying wing aircraft…although multiplied many thousands of times. High above the group saw black shadows passing overhead, each one an LGF aircraft. Wave after wave flew on until it seemed as though the swarm would be never ending.

On the ground below the six pilots wished anything to be airborne in order to fight back. Even though such a wish would have been truly futile. Any attempt to stop them would have been overwhelmed in seconds.

"Oh my god," Buffy whispered. "How stupid we were to think we could win against them. They'll be on our front lines in a matter of minutes, pounding everything into dust."

Willow found herself nodding in agreement. The shadows obscuring her bright green eyes bore right into her soul. Everything had been going so well, they had been winning against all odds. The Guardians were turning the tide of the war in favour of the humans. Now there was no way they would be enough. The odds had just turned against them…and it didn't look as though they would be swinging back anytime soon.

_Go get 'em Captain_ Tara's vibrant sounded in her mind, recalling the last moments they had spent together before the ill-fated flight.

Willow set her jaw firmly. She repeated Tara's words out loud, "Go get 'em."

Willow crawled further forward until she was poised on the brink of the last cover available before the open ground surrounding the ship. For the last fifty meters, there would be no cowering behind anything, just an all out sprint.

"What did you say?" Buffy had put the first aid kit back in her pack and Barrel was flexing his body beneath the bandages.

"We're moving out. There's still a chance and I'm going to take it. Are you with me?"

"What, the six of us?" Buffy inched up to lie beside Willow although she was looking behind her at their bedraggled little group.

"And Tara," Willow replied, looking towards the gash torn in the side of the ship. It was their ticket in.

"You really think she's the key to all of this?" Faith asked, crawling up to rest on the other side of Buffy.

"I don't know why…but yes," Willow replied in a firm voice. She checked that she had a firm hold on her weapon. "Tara felt that there was something she had to do...and whatever it is, I don't want her to be alone."

"We'll get you to her, Will," Alex joined the three of them, paused to make the dash across to the ship.

Barrel grunted and moved up next to Alex. "Let's go get some LGF! I owe them one for Charlie."

"And I'm just pissed off," William muttered, already feeling the burning desire for a cigarette.

Willow steeled herself before leaping swiftly to her feet. Her muscles gave a twinge of protest as she burst into full speed ahead but she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the opening some six feet above the ground. Beside her, the other five followed and fanned out around her. Each man or woman sprinted as fast as they were able – even Barrel kept up despite his wound.

At every moment Willow expected to feel the sharp bite of something tearing into her flesh as they were spotted. However she made it safely to the side of the ship and slammed into the cold metal, hugging the side tightly as she waited for the others to join her. They worked swiftly helping each other up. Luckily the missile hit had left plenty of ruptures in the ships otherwise smooth hull to serve as handholds. One by one they climbed up into the ship. Faith led the way, followed quickly by Buffy. The two women turned to help Barrel up while Alex and Willow gave the big man a boost from below. William watched their backs.

"Ouch!" Alex protested beneath Barrel's weight. "You have got to lay off the cake, mate!"

Barrel turned to help Alex up with a grin on his face. "Are you trying to tell me I'm fat?"

"No, just awfully heavy!" Alex replied as he scrambled up into the ship, once safely inside he gave an involuntary shiver, "This place gives me the heebie-jeebies and we're not even fully inside yet."

Willow propelled William up next, she would be the last to enter. As she was waiting for William she kept an eye on the surroundings, so far they had managed to slip in unnoticed. The size of their group was an advantage. She suspected the LGFs were concerned only about large numbers of troops.

"Up you come, Will." Faith extended her hand down to help Willow up.

As Willow was halfway up, her hands gripping the bottom of the opening, there was a sudden burst of steam from her right. She glanced across to see a huge metal plate moving towards her and closing the gap at an alarming rate. In mere seconds she would be either shut outside the ship or squashed flat as the gap sealed. Even as her legs worked furiously to get herself up, she felt Faith's grip on both her forearms. With a mighty heave from the brunette she was propelled inside. There was barely anytime to spare, Willow's backpack and Tommy gun were ripped from her back as she squeezed through the rapidly dwindling opening. Willow fell forward just as the gap sealed itself completely and landed unceremoniously atop Faith.

"Will, you don't need to thank me like this," Faith found herself face to face with the redhead, closer than either of them had ever been to each other before.

"Thanks anyway," Willow scrambled backwards onto her haunches, allowing Faith room to stand up.

"Close shave?" Faith patted her firmly on the back.

"Yeah, you don't really need to get any skinnier, Will," Alex quipped before looking around. "Um, any ideas on where we're going?"

Willow stood up on shaky legs and scanned the space in which they now found themselves. It was all too eerily familiar because she had been here before. It was the same place which had haunted her dreams of late. However it was ten times as worse in real life. She saw the translucent green tubing pulsating along the walls. It cast a green glow over each of them and made them appear as though they had the pale pallor of death. The tubes disappeared into the darkness ahead, flowing onto their destination. Willow knew exactly where they were going.

"Just follow the green lights," Willow commanded, stepping out into the lead.

The others fell into file behind her, weapons at the ready and eyes scanning for any sign of LGFs.

"Just like the Yellow Brick Road," Tad said. The sailor-turned-foot soldier was training his Tommy gun on any shadow that looked remotely menacing.

"Only I don't think it leads to Oz," Faith added dryly.


	21. All Roads Lead to Hell

Willow felt the extremely unpleasant sensation of sweat trickling down the side of her face, from her hairline, down over her temple and finally dripping off her cheek. She did not even dare dash her forearm across her forehead to mop it up. The atmosphere was thick with tension as the group of humans made their way into the very bowels of hell itself. It was certainly hot enough to be hell inside the LGF Mothership.

Despite the chaos that was erupting in the world outside the ship, silence reigned inside. The group moved so silently that Willow could hear Barrel's heavy breathing behind her and the slight clink of Buffy's Tommy gun against her webbing as she walked just ahead. Her own breathing was like a deafening storm in her head. She half wished that it would stop and give her room to think.

So far they had seen no other sign of life, nor any sign that their intrusion had been detected, a fact which was making them all dangerously cocky. William and Tad led the group down the corridor. They had very little decision making to do as the only way was forward, there had been no turns or undulations whatsoever in their path. While the leading pair had started out at a bare creep, they had slowly increased the pace to a brisk walk. The others followed their lead, although wary to check each point they passed for any signs of change - anything other than the stark corridor which seemed to go on forever.

Willow had the distinct feeling that if she closed her eyes she would still see the tubes of neon, green lighting her way forward - leading her forward and straight into hell. Her eyelids refused to shut however. They were frozen open, constantly alert. They had adjusted to the strange lighting and semi darkness to the point where each shadow did not trouble her. She had noted that the corridor seemed to widen as they walked to the point where it was now a good twelve feet across.

"I get the feeling that these guys aren't too big on security," Buffy whispered, turning her head slightly over her shoulder so she spoke in Willow's direction.

Faith's sharp ears picked up the comment and she replied a little louder, "I think given that they are currently blowing our positions to hell that they don't expect any of us to be sneaking in their back door."

Willow made an angry hissing noise in the back of her throat as an indicator for them both to keep their mouths shut. Buffy turned to face forward once again and Faith merely grunted her assent as she readjusted the heavy Bren gun on her hip.

The events that unfolded next put paid to any assumptions that they would be able to stroll through the Mothership undetected. In hindsight, Willow knew it was coming from the moment of her hair-raising entrance into the ship. The atmosphere of dread had built to the point that she was poised, waiting for whatever it was the LGFs would throw at their little group. So when the floor shook beneath them, sending Tad and William sprawling and the rest of them to the walls for a secure handhold, Willow merely cocked her Tommy gun and waited.

"What in blazes?" Tad picked himself up just as the floor in front of him rent open with an awful grinding and tearing of metal. He found himself staring down into a deep, black chasm. If William had not reached out and yanked him backwards by his backpack them he would have discovered just how deep it was.

The floor tore at irregular intervals, leaving jagged gaps across what had once been a secure walking surface. It became a treacherous maze which they would have to negotiate in order to continue.

Willow padded her way forward and came to a halt just in front of William and Tad. With her toes barely on the edge, she peered into the darkness below and then up at the route that lay before them. While every ounce of good sense within her told her that turning around would be the safest option, she knew it was the wrong choice. There was no way except forward, forward and on towards Tara. Raising her hand she made a slow motion forward for her team to follow her. With her heart continuing to hammer in her head, Willow began negotiating the jagged surface to the other size. With each step she was prepared for the floor to give way beneath her. The further she went, the more she felt as though she were a school child walking a balancing beam in the playground.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Tad following close behind, obviously poised to react if she should fall. His Tommy gun was slung over his shoulder so as to leave both hands free. Stretching out behind them both, were the other members of the team. A rather nervous looking Alex brought up the rear. Willow noted approvingly that Faith and Buffy had branched out, choosing different routes across the maze. They each tested the way ahead cautiously before taking a step.

"Kinda makes you feel like a youngster," Tad remarked, echoing Willow's thoughts.

"Just keep your eyes peeled," Willow replied, unable to respond as jovially as she would have in the past.

She concentrated on putting one foot after the other, trying to look both where she was placing her feet and at the way ahead. Even though she was almost safely across the jagged portion of the floor, she could not relax.

"Hey..." Tad began in a low voice.

Willow glanced over her shoulder to find him staring intently down into the depths below them.

"There's something moving down there," he continued.

With calculated care, Tad began to slowly unsling his weapon. For a split second Willow was torn as to whether to order everyone through as fast as possible or freeze and prepare to fire. It was an obvious choice, they were defenceless with limited footing, she was about to bark the order when a foreign shape shot up out of the darkness. It moved at such a pace, Willow could not make out what it was until it shot through Tad's back and protruded hideously from his stomach. Willow found herself staring at a thick cylindrical shape with a tapered end, much like a tentacle. Embedded in the very end was what appeared to be an eye. It regarded Willow coldly and she shivered. The tentacle undulated grotesquely as though it was alive and yet its materials indicated that it was mechanical. It was made of some sort of transparent material though which Willow could see the now familiar green liquid pulsing as well as any number of what appeared to be wires and tubes. The bright red blood which was splattered over the eye facing her drew Willow back down to earth. She glanced up from the tentacle to Tad's face. It was ashen and slack as he stared back at her.

Behind her, the rest of her team members had opened fire as more of the sinister tentacles arose from the chasms beneath their feet. Combined with the threat which they now faced, they still had to contend with the fact they were dancing on narrow ledges themselves. Alex had managed to retreat back to the secure footing at the start but the others were all playing a dangerous balancing game. A wrong foot would send them down into the depths, no doubt to the origin of the monster-machine they now faced.

Meanwhile, Willow could not draw her eyes away from the look of surprise on Tad's face as he was forced to confront his mortality. Quickly slinging her weapon, she reached out across the gap that separated them and took both his hands in hers. Suddenly the tentacle that held him dropped and he fell along with it. With a strangled cry, Willow dropped to her knees. She would have been dragged down along with Tad had not the tentacle become entrapped on a piece of jagged metal. Tad hung downwards, only the tentacle in his stomach and Willow's desperate grip preventing him from falling. His grip on her hands grew slacker with each passing second. She dragged her eyes away from Tad's to search out Faith in the chaos and found her in the midst of hacking off one of the tentacles with her knife. Half severed, the writhing tentacle was still trying to wrap itself around her chest. With one last guttural cry, Faith hacked it free and it fell harmless to the ground. Searching for her next target, her eyes met Willow's and before her gaze fell upon Tad, she knew. She leapt the short chasm that separated them and fell to her knees in front of him. She took his hands from Willow who immediately leapt to her feet to defend her friends as they spent precious last moments together as Tad's wound was clearly fatal.

Tad's eyes misted over at the sight of his lover. He gripped her hands with all his remaining strength even as he felt the life drain out of him.

"Tad…" Faith whispered in a broken voice.

A tentacle screamed towards her. Faith calmly raised her head for a moment and let go of one of Tad's hands. In one fluid movement, she swiftly drew her pistol and emptied the magazine into its eye. It exploded in a shower of hot, green slime.

The tentacle impaled in Tad's stomach writhed momentarily, tearing at the already gaping wound. Stark white from blood loss, Tad couldn't feel a thing. Blood bubbled from the corner of his mouth as he tried to speak his last. His mouth opened and closed, teeth stained with blood. With a brutal tug, the tentacle wrenched itself out of Tad's stomach accompanied by the sickening sound of collapsing flesh. Faith had to scramble to hold onto him, flinging her pistol away to hold him securely with both hands.

Behind her, Willow fired her Tommy gun into the blood-spattered tentacle as it tried to renew its attack on the couple. She gained no amount of satisfaction from seeing the bullets tear into its skin as it fell backwards into the pit. There was no time to dwell on anything as more emerged to take it place. She was frantically trying to keep Faith and Tad clear from attack.

Her hands slick with blood, Faith was loosing her grip on Tad. The tendons on her arms bulged as she fought to pull him back up. In one awful moment, it appeared as though she was going to let herself get dragged down with him.

"Let…me…go!" Tad choked, with nearly more blood coming out of his mouth than words.

"I can't!" Faith replied desperately, as though that would be killing him herself.

"Please…" he urged, his voice was a mere whisper.

Faith had her legs wrapped around the beam of metal upon which she sat but even that was not leverage enough to retain her hold on Tad. Her grip continued to falter. He slipped further downwards, his eyes pleading with her to let him go.

"I love you," Faith whispered, her mouth set with grim determination.

Tad's lips curled up in a grotesque but genuine smile, neither of them ever expected to hear those words coming from her lips. Rather than let Tad slide out of her grasp, Faith let him go suddenly as though that were the only way she could do it.

Willow stood over Faith, watching her out of the corner of her gaze. For a moment she though the brunette might throw herself down into the darkness below along with her lover's body. However, she realised just how little she knew the woman when she suddenly sprang back into action as though the past few tragic moments had never occurred. The only indicator that they had was an even more determined set to her expression. As soon as she was on her feet, she deftly dodged a spearing thrust made by a tentacle. Spinning around it she grabbed it from side on and held fast.

"Knife!" she barked urgently in Willow's direction, having lost her own in her scramble to reach Tad's side.

"Here!" Willow responded quickly despite her amazement at the speed of Faith's movements, withdrawing her own sheathed knife and tossing it to Faith.

Faith snatched it out of the air by its handle and plunged it downwards into the writhing tentacle. Gushes of green slime sprayed upwards, covering her head and shoulders. Willow watched her pare the tentacle like a vegetable. Eventually, the end flopped lifelessly to the ground even as the now headless stub continued to thrash around. It threatened to knock both of them of their feet.

All around them their fight against the huge, all-consuming creature seemed to be in dire straits. It was clear that no matter how many tentacles they succeeded in removing, more surfaced to replace them. Several grenades thrown into the pit had little effect, other than to threaten to bring the roof down on their heads.

Faith glanced across to Willow desperately.

"We've got to give you enough room to get out of here…we're here to find Tara, not-" Faith stopped talking momentarily to wallop a tentacle with her fist and slash at it wildly. She continued talking, "-get slaughtered by these things!"

Willow looked helplessly at the path ahead, she could she no road through the writhing mass. She then looked to her friends, she also hated to leave them alone facing the mechanical creature. If it weren't for her, none of them would even be here.

_No, but they'd still be outside fighting…still probably be getting killed._ Willow thought of the swarms of LGFs outside and reasoned that perhaps they did stand more chance in here.

"Everyone, concentrate all your fire, everything you've got! We've got to make a path through for Will!" Faith yelled, her voice barely resonating over the sounds of the struggle, she also signalled out Buffy as the next closest person. "Buff, you're going with her."

Buffy, covered from head to toe in the green goop secreted by dying tentacles, nodded her assent and leaped to join Willow in a position to make a sprint through the path created. As the remaining members of the team gathered around Faith, Willow could see it was going to be suicide for them. To concentrate their efforts on one area, would leave them exposed to all others. They would be able to create a path for bare moments, and then would most probably be cut to ribbons.

"We'll be right behind you, Will," Alex said over his shoulder as he pumped yet another magazine into the nearest tentacle. They were all running dangerously low on ammo.

Willow detached her remaining magazine from her Tommy gun and tucked it in Alex's webbing. She slapped him fiercely on the back in thanks and for luck. She threw her now empty machine gun to the ground, knowing she had only her handgun remaining for self-defence.

"Now!" Faith barked.

Willow and Buffy watched as their friends threw themselves against one side of the mass of tentacles leaving an almost clear run for the two of them down the other side. Neither wasted a moment in making for it, otherwise their friend's sacrifices would have been in vain. Willow ran first, Buffy close on her heels.

Willow was forced to duck urgently as a rouge tentacle went flying over her head. She felt it brush the hair on her head as it was carried by its momentum straight into the wall beside her. Without time to think, she leapt the last open space between her and the corridor ahead. For anyone it would have been an impressive and difficult jump. Exhausted and wounded in several places, Willow barely made it. Her toes caught the edge of the ledge and for a few dangerous seconds she windmilled her arms in an effort to fall forward. However it was Buffy crashing through behind her that eventually knocked her forward. She fell flat on her face, incredibly relieved.

Buffy grabbed her upper arm in a vice-like grip. "Up, Will!"

Buffy was right to urge her forward, even as Willow struggled to her feet tentacles came crashing after them. Willow could sense them straining at her heels as she ran full tilt down the corridor in front of her. Both pilots running as fast as they possibly could, trying desperately to block out their friends screams that echoed from behind them.

* * *

When Tara managed to open her eyes, she was surprised to be able to do so. She thought perhaps they would have frozen shut with the temperature in the cell. As her eyes grew adjusted to what little light filtered into her cell, she realised that her eyelids were about the only thing she could still move. It felt as though she had no limbs, she was just a detached consciousness floating in a tiny room.

So when the door to her cell was slammed open and heavy booted feet crashed into it, Tara was barely aware of it. It was not until cruel fingers wrapped themselves around her frozen flesh that she actually felt something. It was as though their flesh was burning her own, permanently branding her skin. With one on either side, they dragged her upwards. A weak, barely audible cry tore from her lips. Had she had the strength, it would have been a full throated scream. Tara half expected to find her legs had been ripped off at the hip as they jerked her into a standing position. Her feet hit the floor and immediately could not support her own weight. Her legs simply crumpled beneath her. The Juthungi barely paused and resorted to dragging her out of the room.

Tara's frozen feet felt as though they were being scraped raw. However, despite the pain of feeling returning to her limbs and her rough handling, Tara refused to make a further sound. After being dragged longer than she could stand it, she gritted her teeth and made her feet work. It felt strange at first, as though she were not the one doing the walking. Eventually, she was stumbling along between the two Juthungi. Each step felt as though she was walking on knives, but she was heartened slightly by the fact that her strength had not deserted her altogether. For she knew exactly where she was going…and that she would need to draw upon all the reserves of strength she could muster.

When she finally saw it, Tara was surprised to find that she was no longer scared of it. It seemed that the machine had haunted her dreams for so long that it was becoming as familiar to her as her own bed. When the Juthungi roughly shoved her back against its surface she did not gasp in shock…for she knew exactly how it would feel. As they manoeuvred her limbs about to tie the straps, Tara felt as though the contraption had been constructed with her body in mind. Every surface moulded to her flesh perfectly.

They were none to gentle strapping her in, each one threatened to cut of circulation as Tara tested them experimentally. She did not want to seem overly willing for them to carry out their plan with her despite the fact that it was exactly what she wanted them to do. The look of terror on her face however, was very real.

Tara regarded each of the four Juthungi in the room as she waited for them to begin. There was nothing to separate them. Each was dressed identically with no rank insignia of any kind. She could no more tell what they were thinking than she could a rock. Each moved about their duties without so much as a signal or any form of communication with one another. It was only when all but one of them left the room that Tara guessed they were about to begin.

As Tara stood in silence, awaiting her fate she closed her eyes in an effort to a place from which she could draw strength. Although all she did was lower her eyelids over her eyes, she effectively sealed herself off from reality, disconnecting the rest of her emotions as well. It was a technique she had learned to master during her most difficult periods of adolescence. This time however, it was slightly different. Never before had she held the same amount of strength within herself and it was for one reason - Willow. It took a few moments for her raging heartbeat to slow, to forget the cold that enveloped her entire body but eventually she found the place inside of her where Willow lived. Tara let the love that dwelt there fill her body. The cold fled and was replaced by the love that Tara cherished more than anything else in her life. Willow was her life. She loved the redhead for just who she was, the daredevil pilot, the leader and the wonderfully talented lover who never failed to send her over the edge.

Suddenly there was pain!

Tara's eyes flew open as the calm that she had built around herself was torn down in the most violent manner possible. All over her body she felt an intense burning fire consuming her. Her eyes opened even wider when she saw what had caused her pain. Dozens of tubes had emerged from the machine which held her and pierced her flesh. They entered in her legs, her arms, chest and even her neck. Each one carried the same green essence that pumped throughout the entire vessel into her veins. Tara stared in horror at the tubes in her arm, she could see a green colour spreading through each of her veins where there ought to have been the faint blue of her own blood. She could feel it as it entered her body and it was the most awful feeling Tara could imagine. It was as though there was another entity inside of her, invading her body. Her vision clouded over and she realised she was seeing everything through a green filter. Her heart thudded fiercely once more as her previous state of calm fled. Tara lost the picture of Willow in her mind. All she had left was her name.

"Willow!"

* * *

As Willow and Buffy continued into the bowels of the ship, their friends were still with them in spirit if nothing else. For the first time they now found themselves up against turns and corners in their path. A veritable labyrinth of choices presented themselves to the two pilots who had no idea which direction to choose. Both were so used to flying by compass, here they had nothing to guide them save a burning desire to find Tara. Willow found herself choosing pathways at random, knowing in her head it was futile and yet sensing in her heart

"Willow!"

Willow stopped dead in her tracks and turned to Buffy with an urgent look on her face, the blonde stared back, her face streaked with blood, dirt and sweat.

"Did you hear that?" Willow cocked her ear, straining to listen even though the first word had been like a shout in her ear.

Buffy frowned, the tension evident on her face. "Nope, what was it?"

She studied the direction to which Willow was listening intently, her Tommy gun trained ahead with her finger poised over the trigger. Willow cupped her pistol in both hands, holding it in front of her in a cautious manner as she listened. Suddenly she surged forward and quickly broke into a run.

"Hey!" Buffy was helpless to do anything but follow.

She chased after Willow as the redhead seemingly knew exactly which way she was going. Panting, Buffy caught up and tried to slow the redhead down.

"Will, slow down. You'll run us straight into a whole nest of 'em or something!"

"I can't Buffy!" Willow shrugged off Buffy's restraining arm and quickened her pace. "I know where she is."

Buffy looked at Willow sceptically as they ran. "And how on earth do you know that."

Willow replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "Because I can feel her."

* * *

Cherry felt the dust that filled the air scorch the back of his throat. He coughed and choked but more flooded into his mouth until he was doubled over with spasms rocking his small frame. Peering through slitted eyes, everywhere he looked, was chaos. Explosions rocked the earth and the skies overhead were black with aircraft, none of them friendly. Cherry felt as though her were drowning, not knowing which way to run. He stood hunched over with men and women swarming around in, running in both directions as though no one knew exactly where to go. Mrs Chippy shivered in her hiding place beneath his coat.

Suddenly his arm was snatched up in a fierce grip. Cherry peered upwards to see a young soldier standing over him. The soldiers face betrayed his youth but the dirt and blood caked upon it said otherwise.

"You can't just stand here, kid!" he yelled over the din.

Without a further word he began dragging Cheery along behind him. His confidence and strong frame gave the boy a glimmer of hope.

When Cherry stumbled one too many times as the ground shook beneath his feet, the soldier simply picked him up in both arms. Cherry buried his face in the soldier's greatcoat, keeping both his own arms in a protective shield over Mrs Chippy.

Cherry thought they had run for miles when the soldier finally slowed, although in reality their dash had lasted mere seconds. He found himself set on his own feet quickly yet gently.

"Get under the ledge. As far back as you can and don't come out for anything!" he motioned Cherry beneath an overhang which was so low to the ground only a child could hope to squeeze beneath it.

Cherry didn't need to be told twice, he scrambled beneath the thick concrete of what had once been part of a building's basement. He jammed his body as far back as he possibly could. Not caring that he could just as easily be crushed like a small bug if it were to fall. He peered back out at the soldier who was crouched down to check his charge was safe. As he gave Cherry a quick grin he suddenly disappeared amidst a shower of fire and ash. Cherry heard a scream in his ears and it was not until it stopped that he realised it was his own voice.

When the dust cleared he met the young soldier's gaze once again. He stared back at Cherry through eyes that had seen too much…and now saw nothing at all. Cherry burrowed against the surface behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands against his ears in a vain effort to block out the sounds of the world ending. He could feel Mrs Chippy's heart thudding along with his own.

* * *

Despite the fact that Willow obviously strongly believed they were headed in the right direction, Buffy couldn't help but feel a very palpable dread with each step she ran. It was as though they were getting closer and closer to the centre of hell. With the walls closing in on her, she began to wonder if she would ever see the sky again. She stole a glance across at Willow and the singular look on her face told her everything she needed to know. Willow no longer cared about the sky, or her own life…all she cared about was Tara.

"We're here!" Willow hissed urgently as the two of them rounded one last corner.

Both Willow and Buffy skidded to a rather abrupt halt as they emerged into a small anteroom. It was made all the smaller by the fact there were three massive aliens standing in the centre before a small door.

"Fuck!" Willow yelped, raising her pistol.

"This is all your fault, Will!" Buffy said through gritted teeth.

"I'll buy you a drink later!" Willow replied quickly.

In the space of a split second, both of them opened fire at two different targets. Without stopping to think clearly, Buffy pumped the one nearest to her full of hot lead from the Tommy gun at her hip. She watched as the bullets at first seemed to bounce right off its chest armour before they finally began to tear into its flesh. Worried by the initial ineffectiveness of her attack, Buffy emptied her entire clip into the creature. Rather than falling instantly, it slumped to the floor as though willingly into oblivion.

Meanwhile, Willow fired two shots in rapid succession right into the forehead of an LGF. It dropped like a stone and lay motionless on the floor. She soon realised as she watched her target and Buffy's fall to the ground that they had been surprised by the two humans that appeared in their midst. Not wanting to waste a second of that advantage, Willow moved swiftly to the single standing LGF and pressed her trigger firmly. With a gut-wrenching click, the hammer struck an empty chamber. The second time she pressed the trigger, she met with the same result. She was out of ammunition.

"Get out of my way!" Willow yelled.

She was not about to let an empty clip come between her and Tara…or a three hundred pound monster for that matter. With the angry roar of someone who was incredibly pissed off, Willow charged at the creature.

Buffy stared in horror as Willow leapt on its back, arms encircling its neck. She watched as Willow held on with all her might, even when the creature brought its hands up to try and tear her off. Willow screamed as its taloned fingers dug into her skin. Buffy swiftly drew her knife and rushed to Willow's aid. As the creature was trying to tear Willow off, she drew back her arm and plunged the knife up to the hilt in its chest. The LGF roared, opening its huge mouth beneath the mask of its helmet. Buffy saw rows of tiny teeth, at odds with the image of shark-like fangs she had expected. It wrenched its body sideways and the dagger snapped off at the hilt.

Buffy tossed the useless handle away and looked frantically for something else to use as weapon. She looked to one of the motionless bodies on the floor. At its waist the creature wore a scabbard of sorts with a long handle protruding from it. Willow cried out again as Buffy scrambled over to the body. Her fingers closed around the oddly shaped handle. With a powerful heave and a grinding of metal, she pulled a wickedly curved knife free of the scabbard. Well over a foot long, the weapon looked and felt deadly. Buffy wasn't convinced.

"Why can't they carry guns for god's sake!" Buffy snapped as she brandished it awkwardly.

"Quit your whining and stick it in this guy before he rips my arms off!" Willow yelled, still hanging on for her life.

Without wasting anymore time, Buffy thrust the knife deep into the LGF's stomach. With a cry, she twisted the weapon brutally, causing it to roar once again. Buffy withdrew the sword and was sprayed by a hot gush of green liquid, the same that had erupted from the tentacles they had faced earlier. Buffy grimaced as she spat out some of the foul stuff.

The LGF then let go of Willow and lunged instead for Buffy. The blonde nimbly stepped away from its increasingly sluggish attempts to grab her. Finally, with Willow still on its back, it slumped to its knees. Willow stepped down from its back as it slowly dropped. With no pity whatsoever she gave it a fierce shove in the middle of its back with her boot. It crashed to the floor along with its fellows. Buffy and Willow surveyed the carnage they had created. As they did, Buffy wiped green sludge from her face.

Willow nodded in her direction. "Lookin' good, Buff."

"Shut up, Willow," Buffy muttered, spitting once more to clear the taste from her mouth.

Willow glanced down at the bloody rents that the LGF's talons had torn in her forearms and winced slightly. Trying to ignore her pain, Willow looked towards the doorway at the back of the room, knowing in her heart that Tara was ever so close. However, as she took a step towards the opening, yet another LGF moved to block her path. He regarded his fallen fellows just once before looking at Buffy and then Willow in turn. Lacking a weapon, Willow backed away cautiously. Buffy moved forward to stand at her side. In her hand she held the knife with a little more familiarity. The LGF continued to regard them calmly as it drew its own weapon. Both women backed off a little further.

A weak cry emitted from the next room and Willow's ears perked up at the sound, her face reflecting her desperation. There was no mistaking who it was. She surged forward with no thought as to how she was going to get passed the creature blocking the doorway.

"Tara!"

"Will!" Buffy restrained her with a firm hand and a determined look on her face. "He'll slice you to ribbons. I've got a better idea, I'll take care of him and you get in there to Tara."

"That's the stupidest idea you've ever come up with. Did you pick up a few samurai skills all of a sudden?"

"I'm not bad with a kitchen knife," Buffy muttered grumpily.

"Should we just stand here and bicker in the hope that he gets bored and leaves us alone?" Willow cocked her head to one side as though in thought.

"How about we take him on together? I'm sure there's another one of these pointy things lying with that guy over there."

"Pointy thing? Seriously, Buffy."

Buffy growled angrily and before Willow could stop her she charged at the LGF as though she were a medieval knight. With a resounding ring, her blade met that of the alien. Buffy then traded several frantic blows with it before she was knocked to her knees. Willow lunged forward with the intention of helping her friend.

"Willow piss off!" Buffy waved her away as she jumped swiftly to her feet. "Go get Tara, I've got this guy's number."

"Buffy!" Willow was torn between the desire to help her friend and her lover, both of whom desperately needed her.

"Go get Tara! And then you can think about helping me…if I still need help!"

Showing absolutely no fear whatsoever, Buffy charged once more. As Willow watched for a few moments, she had to agree that Buffy was astoundingly managing to hold her own. She traded blow for blow with the creature who, despite its size and strength, seemed not to be able to gain the immediate upper hand. Each time their blades met, there was a fierce grinding of metal upon metal.

"I'm feeling good, Will, now move!" Buffy nimbly stepped to avoid a body on the floor and ducked as the LGF swung his fist in obvious frustration at his inability to kill his prey.

Willow reluctantly but gratefully turned away from Buffy's struggle with the LGF and turned her attention to the door. She moved through it and entered a different chamber. Somehow the entire room felt slimy, as though the very air itself had changed. The now familiar tubing seemed to converge at this point and each one ran straight towards a contraption at the heart of the room. At the heart of the machine…was Tara.

"Oh dear lord," Willow felt the words leave her lips along with her heart.

Her eyes were fixed on Tara. For the life of her she could not tear them away from the sight of her girlfriend strapped into an awful contraption. Clad only in her woollen underwear, each of her limbs were spread and tightly fastened. For those awful moments in which she stared, Willow saw everything magnified tenfold. Tara's skin was chalky white, a stark contrast to the bulging blue veins that pulsed beneath her skin. Her fists were clenched, white knuckled as Tara tried to cope with what must have been immense pain. Her hair hung in sweat soaked strands on either side of her face, her beautiful features were contorted. The mouth Willow loved to caress with her own was open wide, lips drawn back against her teeth in a rictus of pain. Tara's beautiful blue eyes were wide open but completely sightless.

Willow took an urgent step forward with the aim of reaching Tara's side as soon as humanly possible. With a sickening lurch, her boot did not fall on to metal. Willow heard and felt the crunch of gravel beneath her feet. Tara was gone and she was staring out into the dreamscape. Nothing but the pounding of her heart echoed in her ears.

Another beat, she was standing in front of Tara again. Confused, Willow glanced around to find herself back in the chamber she thought she had never left. She took a second step towards Tara…and another…

Crunch…her boot sank into gravel once again. The room and Tara were gone…

Willow stumbled and crashed heavily to her knees. Instead of feeling the sharp bite of gravel beneath her, she slammed heavily into the metal floor. As she looked up through tangled strands of her hair, Tara's sightless eyes stared down at her.

"Will!" Buffy's voice pierced her clouded mind. Willow dumbly listened to the sounds of the urgent struggle that continued in the anteroom behind her. "What the fuck is happening?"

With a flood of realisation, Willow knew exactly who was responsible for sucking both her and Buffy and god knew how many others, into the dreaded LGF dreamscape.

"It's Tara," Willow whispered.


	22. Endgame and Epilogue

**Chapter Twenty-Two  
Endgame**

"_It's Tara…"_

As soon as the whisper left Willow's lips she knew she had to find a way to break Tara out of the trance in which she was trapped. While at first she had been unable to draw her eyes away from Tara's expression, Willow recoiled in horror when she noticed the tubes piercing Tara's skin. Her fists clenched with a yearning to grab them and tear them quickly but tenderly from her lover's body. Yet at the same time a part of her was trying to instil a sense of caution. She had absolutely no idea what the liquid running through those tubes was doing to Tara, and more importantly whether their removal would cause her pain or lead to her death.

"Hold on, Buff!" Willow called over her shoulder, where she hoped Buffy was still alive. "I'm going to fix this!" _And just how are you going to do that, Rosenberg? Think!_

Her face set in a grim mask of determination, Willow dragged herself to her feet with the intention of reaching Tara no matter how difficult that was. She reasoned that once she reached Tara and somehow removed her from that machine, everything would stop. Tara was right in front of her. All she had to do was reach out and touch her. Willow stumbled, suddenly feeling incredibly dizzy. There was a blinding flash. Her boots crunched on the gravel.

A blast of icy cold wind and the deathly silence of the dreamscape hit Willow at the same time. Someone stood just in front of her…but it wasn't Tara. Purple eyes bored into her own, fearless and merciless. Willow just stood shock still in the presence of the muscular alien where her lover ought to have been. The LGF regarded her as though her appearance had been entirely expected.

Before Willow could even think that it was all a bad dream and it would be over in a matter of seconds, the LGF's huge hand surged forward and its fingers wrapped themselves around her neck. Willow felt the steely fingers tighten around her flesh, slowly cutting off her air passages. As though she weighed nothing, it lifted Willow right of her feet. Her legs were left thrashing helplessly at the air. She struggled for breath, powerless in its grasp.

In one lightening movement, the LGF moved its free arm. Willow suddenly felt a sharp, piercing pain through her left shoulder and her eyes watered fiercely. She wanted to scream but couldn't. Within her limited field of vision, Willow glanced down to see a skewer-like instrument in its hand. The other end was embedded in her shoulder. She was stuck like a pig on a roasting spit.

When the LGF withdrew the skewer from her shoulder in one brutal tug, the scream finally came. The cry tore from Willow's lungs but sounded little more than a strangled gasp due to the vice-like grip on her neck. It nevertheless pierced the air with palpable pain as she struggled desperately, kicking her legs but still finding nothing but air.

As though in response to her futile attempts to escape, the LGF drew its arm back slightly and with a mighty heave sent Willow flying like a rag doll. At some stage during her flight through the air, reality shifted yet again. Rather than continue flying until gravity brought her to earth, Willow's limp body collided with a cold, metal wall. Already unconscious, Willow's body then dropped like a stone to the floor and she lay crumpled in a small heap in front of Tara.

The first thing Willow felt when she regained consciousness was the damp of her own blood soaking her jacket sleeve. Then she felt the wound where the skewer had pierced her shoulder. Face contorted in silent pain, all Willow wanted to do was curl into a little ball and hide. However, somehow she knew she had to restore a semblance of sanity and bodily function. She tested one limb at a time and was a little surprised to find that everything still worked except her left arm which hung limp and useless at her side. It was useless but still managed to cause her a tremendous amount of pain. She had nothing to stem the flow of blood except a few field dressings in the front pouch on her webbing. Awkwardly she fumbled for them and pressed them against the wound. As soon as the dressings made contact with the wound it radiated even more pain. Barely conscious, Willow managed to jab herself with a tiny syringe of painkiller. She then lay gasping against the wall as she tried to force herself to get moving despite her injury, sweat beading her face.

Her pain-fogged mind cleared enough for her to focus on Tara once more. In fact, the sight of her lover still bound to that awful machine instilled an inhuman will within her. She dragged herself to her feet and stood swaying for a few seconds before taking a lurching step forward. Willow felt like a drunkard as she staggered towards Tara, all her effort focused on reaching her as fast as possible. She had no idea how much time she had before being dragged back into the dreamscape again. Willow knew she had no chance of surviving another bout with her LGF assailant.

She thanked her lucky stars with each step she took that did not wind her up in the dreamscape. After what felt like an eternity had passed, she found herself face to face with her lover's sightless eyes. Willow almost broke down at the sight of what Tara had become. Veins of vivid green pierced her beautiful porcelain skin as the alien substance moved beneath her skin.

Instinctively, Willow raised her cupped hand towards Tara but stopped just short of actually coming into contact with her skin, fearful of the consequences. She was made acutely aware of the fact that while she was so close, she could see no way in which to help her. Tears began to flow as a result of her inability to do anything.

"Tara…baby, I don't know if you can hear me," Willow tried to keep the tears from choking her voice, now was not the time to give into her pain. "Wherever you are, I need you to come back to me. Please, come back."

A split second later, Tara's eyes rolled back into focus.

* * *

Through the haze within her mind, the mixed images she was getting, Tara heard Willow's voice. She struggled to concentrate on that sound she knew so well. It became a point from which to focus all her scattered thoughts. If she could just hold onto that voice, she knew she could make some sense of the chaos in her mind.

In her mind, Tara reached out and tried to take hold of Willow's words. She found them and latched on, refusing to let go even as everything accelerated at a dramatic speed. Tara found herself carried on a torrent, moving faster and faster towards something both real and intangible. Just as she was about to be forced to let go, Tara came to an abrupt halt. She jerked forward once. When she lifted her head she found herself face to face with Willow. It was a very dirty, bloody and wounded Willow.

Willow's face was wet with tears and her mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments before the words poured forth.

"My god, Tara! You're here, is it really you?" Her words came out in a single stream, so urgent was her need to speak. "Stay here, don't let it draw you back in again…please, I have to get you out of here, out of this chair and out of this ship!"

_No! I can't, I haven't finished yet!_

Tara knew she couldn't give up as everything depended on her. However, she not only had to find a way back into the dreamscape, but also a way in which to control it rather than vice versa which would result in the destruction of the human race. She looked sadly at Willow and knew that she had given herself a chance to say goodbye. Tara tried to speak but she could not even move her mouth let alone make a sound. The cruelty of fate would have it that she could see Willow one last time, but not say a word to her.

However, the bond between them was so intense that the mere expression on her face spoke to Willow. Tara saw the redhead's face grow intensely worried and her torrent of words became even more urgent.

"Tara? Why are you looking at me like that? Stay with me for godssake!"

Only now did Willow reach out and physically touch Tara. With both hands, she grabbed her cheeks, fitting her fingers carefully around the tubes emerging from Tara's skin.

Tara felt a powerful surge of emotion with the contact. She drew on Willow's love for her and her incredible strength which still remained despite the fact she was horribly wounded. It was exactly what she needed and she drew as much as she dared, more even.

Willow felt it and in that instant she knew that Tara would let herself be drawn back into the dreamscape. She knew it…and was not going to let it happen.

"Fucking hell, Tara. I want you to stay with me!" Willow was almost screaming. Her grip on Tara's cheeks grew steadily stronger, as though that in itself would keep Tara with her. "I don't care about whatever it is you are doing, you're not going back to that place. Tara, I love you."

Willow was gradually fading as she was drawn back into the dreamscape.

_I love you too Will._

Even as Tara was consumed by the dreamscape, she managed to remain aware of herself. Unlike her previous chaotic experience where she had struggled to grasp anything substantial, she retained a hold on herself.

She found herself walking, or at least a movement which passed for walking in the strange dreamlike state in which she existed. It was not the dreamscape she was so familiar with; she couldn't describe it except to think that it was like being behind the scenes. There was nothing below her feet, above her head, or to either side. She couldn't describe exactly what was out there except to say that there was nothing. The only focal point she could see was an intense bright, blue light directly in front of her. Tara squared her shoulders and definitely walked towards it.

As she moved towards it, she gradually made out of the source of the light and discovered that there were not one, but two sources. A perfectly spherical ball of blue light hovered in the nothingness, to its right was an identical sphere save for its red hue. Tara thought that they were that perfect size to contain a single human. A thought that was confirmed when a body moved within the blue sphere. Tara ran over to it to find herself staring at her mother, trapped within the field of blue light.

"Mom!" she had to fight to restrain herself from reaching in there to pull her out.

Diana raised an exhausted head to meet her daughter's gaze. "Tara…I can't hold it for much longer. With your help, they've started the process and already people everywhere are being drawn into the dreamscape."

"Willow," Tara breathed.

"I'm powerless to do anything without you. You have to help me turn the tide against them!"

Tara was frantic. "How? Just tell me how and I'll do it!"

Diana weakly pointed towards the red sphere opposite her. "You must enter the red…join with me and together we can draw the Juthungi and trap them in their own creation."

Tara looked over her shoulder towards the red sphere and felt a sense of dread just looking at it. She turned back to her mother, hesitation beginning to creep in when faced with what she did not understand.

"Why? I don't understand."

"Trust me, Tara! The red sphere." Diana looked as though she was faltering. She sank to one knee within the sphere, clearly exhausted.

Tara finally turned away from her mother and faced the red sphere. She moved towards it, although even as she did, she couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. Something was terribly wrong.

She put her hand out towards the red sphere, her skin almost coming into contact with the light that made up its surface. As she did so, there was an immense surge from the surface of the sphere as it acted like a black hole, seeking to draw Tara within its depths. Tara faltered and took a single step back. Her mind was working overtime.

_Surely the sphere would be working to keep me out if this is the way to destroy them. I should have to fight to get in…everything else so far has been a fight. _

"Come on honey, you can do it…just step into the sphere and I'll take over from there. Everything will finish. The world will be saved and you will be with Willow once more!" Diana cried out from within the blue sphere behind her.

_Willow! All I have to do is step in here and Willow and I will never be parted again…so easy._

Tara took a step forward to counter the backwards step she had made a few moments earlier. Once again the sphere pulsated and surged, seeking to haul her into it. Tara gave herself up to its magnetic attraction and at once everything came surging forward. As her skin met the red sphere's surface she felt tiny pinpricks cover its surface. However, it was more than that. All of a sudden, she felt as though her entire life draw through those tiny holes. First, just her hands and forearms where they entered the sphere but slowly creeping forward.

_No!_ Tara wrenched herself out of the sphere in an instant.

She stood gasping just beyond its reach and realised exactly what had happened. Everything was again moving fast. Behind her, Diana's voice was growing increasingly shrill as she demanded her daughter step within the red sphere.

"Trust your mother, dear one. I'm the only one that loves you!"

_You are not!_ Tara raged inwardly, at that moment knowing that everything surrounding her was one gigantic lie.

Her fists clenched at her sides, nails biting into the flesh of her palms as she realised that whether the being in the blue sphere was her mother or not, she had fooled her. Stepping into the red sphere would have cemented the process and humanity would have stood no further chance. It was exactly where the Juthungi wanted Tara.

She seethed with anger at not only the betrayal, but the fact that there now appeared to be no hope of saving her friends, and Willow.

With her features appearing like ice and fire combined, Tara raised her head to look the Diana-thing straight in the eye. Given the rather startled expression she received from it in return, Tara knew it was not the response it wanted.

"Tara my love…" it whispered helplessly.

"You're not my mother!" Tara screamed as rage overtook her.

Tara was swept away by the ferocity of rage coursing through her body. Unable to contain the emotion or give any rational thought to what she was doing, Tara charged at the sphere that held the Diana-thing. With a primeval roar she launched herself into it, passing through its surface. She landed inside and to her surprise she was alone. The Diana-thing had disappeared. Inside the sphere, she lost all concept of reality. There was no sense of time, distance or even self. Tara was aware that she was inside the sphere somehow.

Instead of the tiny pinpricks erupting over the surface of her body as had happened in the red sphere, Tara felt an immensely powerful essence course through the very core of her being.

As she felt them, she became aware of who they were as a race. The predator-like was in which they stalked the inhabitants of an entire world and devoured them inside their dreamscape. Once they had finished with one race, they moved onto the next, always hungry for more. The more she learnt of them, the more she hated them.

Just as Tara was aware of them, they too were aware of her. Thousands of voices cried out in rage when they realised their plan had not fallen into place.

She realised that part of the Diana-thing's plan had been ground in truth…the powerful force she felt was their essence. The blue sphere was the portal through which their consciousnesses could move from one plane to the other. Tara probed deeper and her mind reeled with the overload of information.

_Destroy it._ The words entered Tara's mind as she struggled to make sense of everything. _Destroy it?_

Everything began to fall into place. The Juthungi naturally existed in a dream state. It was the blue sphere which allowed them to remain in her reality. They had created the red sphere to do the opposite for humanity…and she was to have been at the heart of that process.

_Fall into your own trap you little green fuckers! Tara thought angrily._

Stretching each of her limbs outwards until they touched the sphere at different points, Tara begun pushing with all her might. It had nothing to do with strength, and everything to do with the battle for control which raged in her mind. On one had, she had the entire stream of Juthungi consciousness straining against her, and on the other she had her memories of Willow keeping her focused and in sight of what she had to do.

Tara strained against the sphere, every muscle on her body standing out grotesquely as she struggled to destroy it and seal off their portal to her world. Small cracks began to appear in its surface, starting from the points where her limbs touched it and radiating outwards. Tara screamed in rage, concentrating everything she had to will the sphere to break. The Juthungi cried out in horror.

* * *

For Cherry it seemed as though the battle had been raging for an eternity. The noise of the explosions had filled his ears for so long he did not think he would ever hear anything else. Even the usually stoic Mrs Chippy was trembling inside his coat.

There was another sound, far quieter than the explosions and other noises of battle and yet also far closer. Cherry looked up and his eyes widened in fright when he saw a pair of massive, heavily muscled legs come to stop just in front of his hole. The legs suddenly went into a squat and Cherry met the eyes of the enemy for the first time. The alien reached beneath the beam, his fingers stretching out towards the boy. Cherry screamed and lashed out with his feet. However he could do little in the face of the terrifying creature attempting to drag him out from his small sanctuary. The alien latched onto his ankle and Cherry found himself being roughly dragged from his hiding place. As he slid out towards the open, Mrs Chippy wriggled her way out from his coat and once clear, darted away. Cherry watched her bushy tail disappear and was relieved that she would be safe for a little while longer. However, he had to think of himself now. As he was dragged out fully and hung upside down by the ankle, Cherry continued to struggle. Trying in vain to get the alien to drop him so he could scarper away. The iron like grip merely tightened.

Cherry looked up at the face that was looking down upon him. He watched the alien ready the long knife he carried. Although he was terrified, he had had enough of screaming and resolved that not a single sound would escape his lips. He wondered if it hurt to die.

Suddenly he did hurt, but it was not the sharp thrust of the knife that he had expected. Instead, he had been dropped and landed hard on his shoulder. Cherry grunted in pain but scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could. He found himself standing eye to eye with the alien who had dropped to his knees. Cherry stared in surprise as the once strong creature slumped forward and fell to the earth. It lay there completely motionless as though dead.

Tentatively, Cherry tapped it with the toe of his shoe. He darted back a few paces, fully expecting it to lash out and strike him down. Nothing. Cherry unleashed the hardest kick he could muster. He yelped and the only result was a very sore foot. It was definitely dead.

Suddenly there was a piercing whine overhead and Cherry looked up to see an alien craft falling in a graceful arc. Without a turn or any attempt to pull up, it ploughed straight into the earth. Sending up both clouds of dust and fire. It was followed almost immediately by a second and then another. The alien aircraft were falling from the sky as fast as they had once flown through it. Cherry starred transfixed until he realised that he was in danger. With a last glance up at the sky, he scrambled back into his hiding place.

* * *

The Juthungi knew at once what was happening, he felt it coursing throughout his body, felt the other members of his race departing this plane for the other. It was a struggle for him to remain in this reality. The tiny golden-haired being that fought him was strong; there was no doubt about that. He grew angry at his inability to defeat it, and knew that time was running extremely short. He had to dispatch this nuisance and then kill the sensitive in the next room before she wiped out his entire race. With the strength of one who had just one last hope, he pressed his attack forward. The tiny figure fought with courage but was steadily being beaten back. Finally he managed to get inside her guard and felt the satisfying touch of his blade against its soft flesh. Its eyes widened in surprise for a moment before they closed and it sank to the ground. He did not pause to celebrate his kill. He had to kill the sensitive before it was too late.

* * *

A heavy boot sounded behind her and Willow spun around to see a single LGF standing in the doorway from the antechamber. With a heart wrenching tug, Willow realised it had defeated Buffy and was now coming for her and Tara.

As it moved towards her, she watched its eyes continually losing focus. It also stumbled as though intoxicated. Willow realised that what had happened to her, was now happening to the LGF. It was being drawn in and out of the dreamscape. However, it continued to struggle towards her, brandishing the knife in its hand. Willow stumbled back against Tara's body behind her. She was exhausted, drained and had lost a lot of blood, she had no hope of defending herself. The only way she could stand was by holding onto the chair which held Tara.

She watched transfixed as the LGF advanced on her and her delirium took over. "You're not going to stop her. She's taking care of every last one of you single-handedly and there's nothing you can do about it!"

If the LGF understood her, it made no sound. What it did was raised its weapon in Tara's direction. Willow watched the knifepoint at her lover and knew that the creature aimed to see her dead, even if it was the last thing it did. Willow lost consciousness for a few moments and woke again to find her grip slipping.

"I wouldn't come any closer if I were you," she whispered, struggling not to keel over. "I know kung-fu. I can kill you with my bare hands."

Willow knew she couldn't kill a fly at that point in time, let alone a hulking LGF warrior but a little bluffing never hurt anyone. She stood stock still as it came to stand directly in front of her. It was so close that she could feel its hot breath falling on her face. Rather than waste it's precious time taunting her, it raised its knife above its head and made to finish Tara off with one stroke.

"No!" it was all unfolding in slow motion like a nightmare.

Willow grabbed for its arm but was brushed aside as though she were made of paper. She screamed as she landed on her wounded shoulder. Through her haze, she watched the LGF raise its knife again. With horror Willow realised that she was powerless to do anything but watch it kill Tara. Futilely, she stretched out her hand towards the alien, willing herself to find some last bit of strength.

The creature's chest suddenly erupted in an ugly spatter of green blood and fragments of something that looked like bone. The knife that had threatened Tara clattered to the ground as it too slumped and fell. Half in shock Willow looked towards the door and saw Faith standing there with a stony expression. The brunette had retrieved her Bren gun and it now sat smoking on her hip.

"Thanks Faith," Willow whispered.

"You look like shit, Captain," Faith remarked as she threw the empty Bren aside and crossed the short distance to Willow's side.

"Nice to see you too," Willow struggled up into a sitting position and her immediate concern was for Tara.

There was no change in the blonde's condition, her eyes were still rolled back and her mouth hung open in a silent scream.

A deafening echo reverberated throughout the structure. It came from above them and yet it sounded as though it were everywhere. A second followed the first and this time it shook the deck on which they stood. Faith and Willow looked at each other and both knew what was happening.

"Just fuckin' brilliant! This thing has a self-destruct," Faith said angrily, hands tightening into white balls of fury. "There is no way in hell I'm going to die in a giant barbeque! We're getting the hell out of here!"

"We are leaving," Willow whispered. "But not without Tara."

Willow grabbed onto the chair and with a grunt, drew herself up. Faith quickly grabbed her and helped her up, supporting her beneath both arms. Finding herself face to face with Tara, Willow reached out and placed both her hands on Tara's face. She felt the smooth skin, traced the green lines pulsing below it. Through her touch, she willed Tara to wake up.

The explosions sounded and felt as though they were growing closer. Faith looked around anxiously.

"Will, you've gotta bring back Tara now, or else there will be nothing left to bring her back to!"

Willow only had eyes and ears for Tara. She traced the beautiful skin, now cruelly punctured by the tiny tubes. All she wanted to do was grab a hold of them and pull them out - freeing Tara from the machine which had her trapped.

With the sound of breaking glass, the sphere shattered into thousands of pieces and flew outwards in all directions. Tara hung motionless for a few seconds before she dropped like a stone and fell into the nothing that surrounded her. She fell, completely lost…until she heard a familiar voice calling out to her once again. Tara smiled, Willow was there, and she had never left her side. After that, it was easy to find her way back.

"Baby…please!" Willow urged in desperation.

"Will!" Faith growled.

"It's up to her!" Willow snapped over her shoulder, instantly feeling guilty for doing so.

When she turned around she met Tara's eyes…seeing very clearly sapphire blue rather than the whites. Tara was staring at her wide-eyed, her mouth working imperceptibly. Willow unashamedly blubbered like a baby at the sight of her lover free from the spell which had trapped her for much too long.

There was a hiss of escaping gas from the chair which held Tara, almost like the sigh of one defeated. In rapid succession, the tubes embedded in Tara's skin were expelled. Each left behind an ugly wound the size of a small coin. Even before the last of the tubes had removed themselves, Willow was struggling with the straps that held her arms and legs. Faith quickly moved to help and together they freed Tara in a matter of seconds. The blonde stumbled forward out of the chair with Faith doing her best to support her as she slumped to the floor.

On her hands and knees, Tara began to retch violently, her entire body wracked with spasm after spasm as it tried to expel the foul ooze within her body. Eventually it came, all Willow could do was cradle her as she vomited up copious amounts of the green substance which had been pumped through her body. Despite the fact that it had been pumped into her veins, her body now seemed to be rejecting it in every possible way.

Faith stood over the pair of them, knowing all too well that their time to escape the ship was rapidly running out. They had to leave as soon as possible despite the fact that Tara could not even stand. Willow looked up over her shoulder from where she knelt beside Tara and her face said that she knew exactly what Faith was thinking.

"Is Buffy dead?" Willow asked Faith as she stroked Tara's back, the blonde heaved again.

Faith shook her head gratefully. "No, I checked her briefly before I got that bastard off your six. She's unconscious but breathing."

"Get her and start making your way out as best you can, we'll follow you," Willow ordered.

"With all due respect, I'll wait-" Faith began.

"I outrank you so get your arse moving," Willow interrupted. She was in no mood for heroics. "We'll be right behind you."

Faith growled low in her throat as she looked at the pair of them, Willow with her wounded shoulder and Tara still curled up into a tight ball, heaving uncontrollably. She then glanced back over her shoulder to the anteroom where Buffy lay, also badly wounded. What a fine group they made.

"See you outside," Faith muttered before making a reluctant exit.

Willow watched through the doorway as the brunette scooped a limp Buffy up into her arms. With a last look over her shoulder, Faith was off running.

At her feet, Tara had collapsed forward, the last of her strength completely sapped by the fight to rid her body of the alien substance. She lay panting in her own vomit. Willow struggled to pick her up but with one arm she could do little more than roll her over and cradle her head.

'Tara, baby, we have to get out of here," she whispered, gently stroking her matted hair out of her eyes.

"Just leave me here, Will," Tara whispered weakly, eyes half lidded.

Willow knew they had absolutely no time to be gentle. She grabbed Tara by the shoulder and shook her roughly.

"On your feet soldier!" Willow screamed in Tara's ear.

Tara's widened although they were still hazy, she moved her arm ineffectually as though she were trying with all her strength but there was none to be had. Willow wrapped her good arm around Tara's back and succeeded in heaving her up into a sitting position. From there, Tara reached out and grabbed a hold of the chair which had held her so cruelly. With trembling fingers, she used it as leverage to pull herself up. Willow supported her until she was standing and then shifted her arm to Tara's waist. Her knees felt as though they were about to give out beneath her.

"Can you walk?" Willow asked quietly, finding a small moment to kiss Tara's jaw line tenderly.

"No," Tara whispered, holding onto Willow as fiercely as she was able. "But I can run."

Willow grinned. "That's my girl."

With each step Faith ran she felt as though her heart was going to burst out through her ears. Buffy weighed relatively little, but the effort of carrying her and running as fast as possible was taking its toll on her exhausted body. As she neared the corridor where the huge, tentacled monster had claimed the lives of the rest of their group…and Tad, she didn't even pause to reflect so urgent was her haste to escape the self-destructing ship.

She remembered how it had killed Tad, Alex and Barrel before its tentacles had slumped lifeless into the darkness, a victim of whatever magic Tara had wrought within the heart of the alien ship. Faith had barely paused to grieve before going to look for her remaining friends.

Faith ran full tilt across the chasm, refusing to accept that the platforms could give way and send her and Buffy plummeting. She reached the other side safely and passed Alex's lifeless, headless body. A tentacle had wrapped itself around the young man's neck and ripped it off in one brutal movement. Faith's eyes stung with unshed tears but she couldn't stop.

There was light up ahead, Faith stumbled towards it just as the ceiling behind her came crashing down amongst flames and tortured metal. The destruction was right at her heels. Heedless of what lay just outside, Faith dived for the tear in the ship's hull and rolled mid-air so she would act as a cushion for Buffy. As she did, a plume of flame reached out for her, stretching its deadly fingers in one last attempt to claim her life.

Faith hit the earth hard and all the wind was knocked out of her. She struggled to her feet, not wanting to rest until she was at a safe distance from the exploding ship. Together with Buffy, she stumbled, crawled and dragged herself another fifty meters before collapsing in the shelter of a garden wall, surrounded by a few hedges still gamely clinging to life.

Faith gently lay Buffy down, and stood, seeing instantly that there was no chance of Willow and Tara escaping the way she had just come. She watched in horror as the entire bulkhead of the ship began to collapse and completely destroy the exit. The entire structure was ablaze, sounds of fire and tortured metal filled the air. Every few moments a huge section would breakaway from the exterior and fall crashing to the earth, or collapse inwards upon itself. The ship was in ruins.

Faith slumped forward to her knees; unable to take her eyes away from watching the huge vessel go through its death throes. There seemed to be no hope of Willow and Tara finding a way out. Angrily she slammed her fist against the earth in front of her, damning herself for leaving the pair of them inside so she could flee to safety.

It was at that point that she saw two tiny figures stumbling away from the wreckage at another point and she scrambled to her feet. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she saw it was indeed Willow and Tara. Raising her arms wearily above her head she waved and received a tiny wave back from Willow in return.

With a relieved smile, Faith went back to Buffy's side. The blonde's eyes were open slightly and she too smiled when she saw Faith approach and sit down beside her. Faith quickly withdrew what few medical supplies she had with her, mostly bandages and set about ascertaining how badly Buffy was wounded.

"Hey," Buffy whispered, "What are all the bright lights? Have we ended up on Broadway?"

"You wish, the LGF mothership has gone up in flames," Faith replied as she peeled back the layers of Buffy's clothing to expose her wound. "Good riddance to bad rubbish I say…and I don't know what Tara did, but every last one of those bastards is dead."

"Good for us," Buffy tried to sit up but groaned in pain, a slight trickle of blood came from the corner of her mouth. ""Guess I won't be jumping back into the cockpit for a while."

Faith had gently peeled the layers of fabric away from Buffy's wound and had to grit her teeth in order to keep from groaning with despair. It was a serious wound, cutting deep through flesh and muscle and god knew what else…

"How's it look?" Buffy asked as her head slumped back against the ground.

"Real good, Buffy," Faith lied through her teeth, not knowing what to do in the slightest other than make her friend as comfortable as possible.

There was a scuffle behind her and Faith turned to see Willow and Tara stumbling over to them, each looking like death warmed up and a little scorched around the edges. As soon as the pair saw Buffy they scrambled to be at her side. Faith ever so gently picked up Buffy's head and cradled it on her lap, stroking her sweat soaked hair out of her eyes. Buffy smiled as she saw Willow and Tara, reaching out her hand to rest on Willow's knee.

"Will."

"Hey, Buff," Willow whispered, fighting back tears as she saw the wound which Faith was now gently covering with a layer of bandages.

Buffy had ceased feeling anything and she did not gasp in pain as the dressings were applied. She patted Willow's knee weakly.

"I'm sorry I wasted so much time blaming you for Dawn's death. I always knew it was an accident but for some reason I needed my hate to keep me going. I regret losing all those years we could've spent flying together." Buffy closed her eyes.

"Forget about it, we'll have a lot more to come," Willow laid a hand over Buffy's stroking it gently.

"Stick to flying because you are one god awful liar, Willow Rosenberg," Buffy whispered.

The rise and fall of her chest gradually slowed and her eyes did not open again. Only then did the three women realise that their friend was truly dying. After all the ordeals they had been through, all three of them were unable to contain their emotion any longer. Tara was too exhausted to do anything but let the tears roll unchecked down her face, creating paths through the green muck dried on her skin. Faith dashed her arm across her eyes, angrily trying to wipe the tears away but more fell. Willow had no strength to cry either, but she did. Great sobs racked her body even as she tried to remain stoic for her friend.

A small smile crossed Buffy's face and she spoke, her lips barely moving. "Stop crying…I don't wanna die surrounded by sissies."

Several coughs racked her body as she struggled to breathe, blood bubbling out of her mouth. The coughs eventually subsided and the blonde gave one last shuddering breath, dying as she lay surrounded by her closest friends. The war had claimed one last casualty.

* * *

As he wandered around the ruins of the battlefield in a daze, Cherry almost stumbled over the body of yet another alien. All of them, including the one that had been about to kill him, had dropped dead seemingly of their own accord. He quickly moved away from the huge fallen giant which repulsed him and renewed the fear coursing through his body.

The battlefield was a nightmare. Aliens and dead people lay where they had fallen, many of the people so terribly mutilated after combat that Cherry could not bear to look. Everywhere there was death. He could not see one living soul and for a bleak moment he wondered if he was the only one left.

Cherry then looked up at the sky which had once been black with alien aircraft…now it was a surreal expanse of thick, comforting grey clouds. Maybe Tara was out there somewhere and she would come back to fly him away.

"Hey, kid!" a rough voice interrupted his sky gazing.

Cherry looked back down to see a man wearing a tattered uniform running towards him. He studied the man's exhausted but jubilant face.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Cherry thought it was rather daft question given the circumstances but he simply nodded in reply.

"Well, we're gathering everyone back towards the hospital tent to see just how many there are." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder in a vague direction. "You'll be safe there and there should be something to eat."

Cherry nodded, he wasn't hungry. "I have to find my cat first."

"Well, don't take too long, there might be some of the bastards left hiding somewhere." He slapped Cherry heartily on the shoulder and continued on his mission to round up more survivors.

Cherry just nodded and continued plodding his way around the rubble, always staying fairly close to his hiding place where he had last seen Mrs Chippy before she darted away.

"Mrs Chippy!" he called, beginning to fear that she had either run away for good, or been killed in the chaos.

Cherry wandered calling her name for another half an hour until his voice was hoarse but with absolutely no luck. His shoulders slumped dejectedly and he wondered about the point of living in the world without his beloved cat. He returned to the concrete beam and scrambled up on top of it. He perched there, swinging his legs down over the side and putting his elbows on his knees in a weary posture. He reflected on the rather terrifying but oddly funny situation in which he now found himself, quite alone in a ruined world. It was a far cry from his rather pampered existence before the war.

Just as he was deciding whether his situation warranted a good cry or not, there was a small plaintive sound from behind him. Cherry spun around enthusiastically, he knew he would recognise that meow anywhere.

Mrs Chippy padded up onto the beam beside him. She acted as though she had been out for a Sunday jaunt but was now rather glad to be home and looking for something to eat. She regarded him calmly for a few moments before coming closer and allowing herself to be stroked. She yelped indignantly as she was swept up off her feet into the relieved boys' arms. However, following her initial disapproval she allowed him to continue to hold her, even if he was a little over-enthusiastic.

Cherry pressed his face against Mrs Chippy's warm fur and listened to her purr contentedly. He knew he wasn't the only one happy to be back together again. As he snuggled his cat, he gazed out over the landscape around him. He saw three figures walking in the distance. This in itself was hardly a surprise as here and there people had begun to emerge from their places of concealment. It was only when they drew closer that he realised how familiar two of them were.

He instantly recognised the blonde haired figure as Tara and his heart leapt again. She had survived! Then he knew the red-haired woman beside her must be Willow, the young lady he had met briefly in the hospital tent who had gone to search for Tara. Cherry found himself smiling secure in the knowledge that he wasn't alone anymore.

Still clutching Mrs Chippy tightly against his chest, he jumped from the beam and ran to meet them.

* * *

**Epilogue  
A Changed World**

The flatbed truck had virtually no suspension and Willow shifted for the tenth time in the past minute trying to ease the pain in her rear. She wriggled, jostling Tara who she held in her arms in front of her. Tara looked back over her shoulder at Willow with a rather annoyed expression on her face.

"Are you going to stop fidgeting? I'm getting chucked around enough by this truck let alone having you wriggle around beneath me like you've got ants in your pants," Tara snapped playfully.

"Well, let me just say this hasn't been the most comfortable ride across country ever." Willow sat forward, moving Tara with her.

The blonde eased herself up from her position lying against Willow and sat up as well. She swung her legs over the side of the truck, letting them jostle as the truck bounced along the road.

The two of them, along with Cherry who was miraculously sleeping on a pile of blankets, and Faith, were riding on the flatbed of a rather dilapidated truck. They were all heading west from New York, the truck loaded heavily with supplies for survivors they encountered along the way. The four of them were perched unceremoniously amongst sacks of flour, crates of canned food and tins of tea, coffee, sugar and other essentials which were all roped down tightly beneath canvas.

Willow glanced to the rear of the truck where Faith was perched, eyes staring out over the horizon. The once talkative brunette had barely said a word since they began their journey over a month earlier. Although she had been the first off the truck, helping to unload supplies and assist survivors they found in any way she could. She had worked with such ferocity that Willow and Tara thought that she would burn out quickly. A month later however, and she was still burning with the same intensity. When either of them had attempted to speak to her about Tad, she very quickly brushed them off, refusing to divulge any of her feelings.

Willow and Tara had a hidden agenda within their work with the relief effort. They were heading for Tara's family farm. No doubt it had long fallen into disrepair but Tara was ready to deal with her ghosts and start from scratch once more. Cherry was of course was coming with them…and Mrs Chippy too.

The sun was high in the sky of the farmland around them when they stopped for a much needed break. Here and there scorched earth testified that there had once been a war here, but otherwise it was peaceful.

Willow swung herself down from the truck, wincing slightly as her shoulder gave a twinge of protest. The nasty wound would continue to give her trouble for some time yet. She turned and helped Tara down with her good arm. The blonde was still on the thin and pale side but there was colour returning to her cheeks and strength as she pitched in to help survivors rebuild.

The truck stopping had woken Cherry from his slumber and he scrambled down from the truck. With a grin, he set Mrs Chippy down and went charging off towards a grassy field dotted with trees.

"Don't go too far you little rascal!" Willow scolded as Cherry's feet went flying over the grass, Mrs Chippy bounding along just behind him.

Tara laughed loudly and Willow rounded on the blond, retaining the stern expression on her face.

"What?" Willow placed her hands on her hips for added effect.

"You…you sound like a mother already."

"A mother?" The stern look melted away to be replaced by one of confusion. "Tara…I'm not a mother, I never will be."

"Well, you could've fooled me. And Cherry, he certainly seems to think you've got the makings of a good one."

"This really is a changed world isn't it?" Willow remarked ruefully.

"Who would've thought," Faith had joined them, showing plenty of her tanned skin beneath the light vest she wore. "You guys are going to make one cosy little family up there in Oregon."

"You know, you're more than welcome to stay there with us," Tara offered honestly.

"I know," Faith replied quietly, her eyes becoming veiled for a few moments. "But there's a lot to be done out there before I settle down anywhere. I might take you up on that offer one day though."

"You'd better," Willow growled, the thought of losing touch with the other remaining member of her flying group made her feel sick to the stomach.

"Yeah well, I'll just wait until you guys have done all the hard yards. Besides, I thought Giles was coming to visit as well?"

"Yeah, he can't wait to get off that frozen rock…although Oregon in winter isn't much better." Tara smiled. She couldn't wait to see the scientist again.

As Faith moved off to have a few moments of rest beneath a roadside tree, Tara scanned their surroundings and saw a playful river winding its way along through the countryside. She turned to Willow and wrinkled her nose.

"What?" the redhead asked, seeing the look on Tara's face.

"You're beginning to smell a bit ripe," Tara grinned.

Before an indignant Willow could clobber her, she began running towards the river. Willow quickly gave chase. The whole affair was like watching two snails have a race, neither could move very fast. Tara stripped off her jumper before easing herself into the cool water. Willow followed a few seconds later, pausing to strip down to her underwear. Both women were mindful of the fact that they were not particularly alone.

"Brrrr, it's chilly!" Willow protested as she waded in and sank up to her neck.

"Chicken!" Tara splashed a little water in Willow's direction.

Willow winced and moved a little way away from Tara whom she thought was feeling a little too mischievous for her own good. She kicked off from the rocky bottom and floated onto her back.

Silence reigned as her ears sank beneath the water. Her hair floated out in a halo surrounding her head. As she floated Willow gazed up at the sky to see it filled with puffy white clouds. In the days since the war had ended and the Juthungi had been wiped out, Willow had not given much thought to it. Now, it all came back to her. She remembered the sense of freedom and peace that she had felt when at the controls of an aircraft, the agility of her Draken and the fierce speed of her Guardian.

Willow slowly shut her eyes and found herself back in the cockpit. It was a simple Tiger Moth with an open cockpit where the air rushed past her goggled face. She kicked it into a steep turn and a lazy grin spread across her face.

"What are you grinning about?" Tara asked quietly in her ear, the blonde had floated over to her.

"I'm flying," Willow replied simply.

"Willow, you're floating in a river," Tara replied dryly.

An even broader grin spread across Willow's face. "I know."

She opened her eyes once more which brought her back down to earth. Out the corner of her eye she studied her beautiful blonde girlfriend and a thought came unbidden into her mind. When she dwelt on it, she realised that her new idea made complete sense.

"Tara…will you marry me?" Willow thoroughly enjoyed the sound of those words leaving her lips.

She let her feet touch the bottom once more and stood up, her eyes searching Tara's face for a hint of an answer. For an awful moment she thought that perhaps it had been an entirely inappropriate question and she had made a couple fool of herself.

"With all my heart yes," Tara could scarcely utter the words as she stared at Willow.

The redhead's face was slightly pinched and withdrawn with all the hardships they had been through. The wound on her shoulder was ragged and torn but her green eyes sparkled warmly in response.

"C'mere you devil you!" Tara laughed, stretching out her arms.

Willow went willingly to Tara, letting herself be enfolded in both her arms and drawn close. She gently bumped her nose against Tara's, rubbing it with her own teasingly.

"Do you think there ever was a war?" Willow asked quietly.

Tara looked back up the road at the military truck loaded high with supplies, then to the wound in Willow's shoulder and her own pale reflection in the waters surface, as well as the ghosts concealed by her gaze. All of them were signs that answered Willow's question.

"I think there was…a lifetime ago," Tara replied quietly.

"And our friends…the Slayers, the Devils, Alex, Tad and Buffy - they're really dead?"

"Will, we won't ever forget them…" Tara began quietly.

"I know," Willow whispered, moving forward to deposit a lavish kiss on Tara's lips, hungrily tasting her as though it were their last kiss.

"Are you getting saucy on me, Mrs Maclay?" Tara teased, trying to banish all morbid thoughts from Willow's mind for that moment of togetherness.

Willow didn't take the bait, her pale brow wrinkled with concern. "Tara, will we be able to adjust to living peacefully, I mean, we've spent so much of our time together in the middle of a war. I'm worried that the intensity will be missing…what if I make a boring housewife?"

Tara growled, genuinely angry, she wrapped her arms fiercely around her lover as though reassuring her that the passion they had felt for one another was still very much present.

"Will, stop worrying about how you're going to live and just live!"

At that point in time Willow realised just how whiney she came across and smiled apologetically. "I'm a bit of a dunce aren't I?" she mumbled.

"The worst…and who said anything about being a housewife? You're going to be out on a horse rounding up all those cattle that are bound to be running wild!" Tara said it with glee but Willow's face fell instantly.

"Horses? We are going to ride horses? Tara…no, I hate horses!" Willow spluttered.

The truck's horn blared insistently and both Willow and Tara looked up to see Cherry waving at them. It was already time to get back on the road. With Tara at her heels Willow waded reluctantly out of the river and gathered up the clothes she had strewn about the place. Tara picked up her hand and gripped it tightly as they began the walk back to the road.

"You can ride with me…at least until you get the hang of it and then you'll be on your own," Tara reassured her. "Just in case you were in doubt about how much I love you."

"Great," Willow muttered, although her voice was playful. "I guess I love you too…meanie."

They walked back to the truck hand in hand to continue the journey which was going to herald the start of their new life together. In the shadow of a ruined world and the wake of so much death and destruction, Willow and Tara were starting their new life together.

Captain Red had finally got her girl. She'd already proved that they could walk through the fires of hell.

Now horses were a different matter altogether.


End file.
